


If I Stand Up, I Break My Bones

by WakingNightmares



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Acting Out, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Balin and Dwalin are good friends, Bilbo is doing the best he can, But he's trying, Cultural Differences, Family Bonding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Slowburn Thilbo Bagginshield, Thorin Is A Bit Lost, Trauma, Violence, behavioral issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakingNightmares/pseuds/WakingNightmares
Summary: Victorian A/U.Victorian A/U. Thorin was quite content, living in Australia, leaving the memories of his home and family behind him. He had good friends, a thriving ranch, and enough wealth to keep him and his friends living comfortably.But a letter from Bilbo Baggins, Esquire, changes everything. His brother is missing, his sister and father are dead, and his two young nephews are alone at Erebor Manor. Mr. Baggins letter is somewhat vague as to the details, but clear enough: Thorin is needed at home, to settle affairs, and take custody of the boys.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli & Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 78
Kudos: 145





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know technically 1847 isn't _quite_ the Victorian era, but it's close enough!
> 
> If you like, please leave comments below; I love comments, they make my day. I try to be regular about responding back.
> 
> Also... I'm not British, nor am I two hundred years old; please don't judge any mistakes too harshly. :)

Thorin couldn’t help the frown on his face, the rotten, acrid smell in the air making his nose itch. The fresh salt scent of the sea giving way to the black fog of the factories and ships of the harbor hadn’t changed from the day he’d left, 16 years ago, as a young man of 17, to seek his fortunes, away from the domineering presence of his father.

“Thorin? You alright?”

“Hmm?” Thorin turned, seeing Balin standing behind him. “Oh, yes, quite fine. Just…”

“Missing the ranch already?” The older man said gently, coming up to stand next to him at the side of the large ship.

Thorin folded his arms across his chest, giving him a small nod as he stared out at Bristol sitting before him. “Even if I didn’t miss home... “ He breathed in deeply again, the taste nearly gagging him as he looked pointedly at Balin. “I can’t understand how anyone lives here.”

Balin nodded slowly, taking in the view. “Not ashamed to admit, lad, I’m glad my mother and father raised us in New Zealand.” He sighed. “So are we meeting the wee laddies here, or…?”

Thorin reached into his pocket, and pulled out the fancy envelope, the feeling of it something concrete to hold on to, as he slowly turned it round and round in his hands. “No. But we’ll be meeting my father’s solicitor here, Mr. Bilbo Baggins, Esquire.”

Balin snorted a bit at that. “‘Bilbo’? What sort of name is ‘Bilbo’?”

Thorin shrugged, still turning the letter. “Don’t rightfully know, but the Baggins have served the Durins for centuries. His father -Bungo, if you can imagine such a thing -was a bit of an odd fellow. Very odd. His mum though, Belladonna…” Thorin chuckled a bit, a small smile on his face. “She used to make the most delightful biscuits she’d bring round whenever Bungo would come to do work. Don’t remember much about… ‘Bilbo’,” He said, giving Balin a smirk.

“Well, he must’ve been around, laddie; you’re not that old.”

Thorin nodded. “Must’ve been. Can’t remember if he never came round with his parents, or if he was young enough that he didn’t make an impression.”

Both men turned, hearing the first mate begin calling out orders, and the crew jumped to obey.

“Well, we’ll get this settled soon enough, laddie,” Balin said, laying a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “We’ll get it all settled out.”

* * *

Bilbo Baggins, Esquire, watched the ship coming in, as he checked at his pocket watch again. Even from where he stood, he could see Thorin standing on the deck of the ship. Even now, even sixteen years later, he looked as impressive as he had the day he left, if -obviously -older. 

He coughed, and shifted his weight from foot to foot as the ship began the process of docking. As soon as Thorin and his companion -an older gentleman, one Bilbo didn’t recognize ( _ although that made sense, didn’t it, he wouldn’t recognize any of Thorin’s new companions after sixteen years in the colonies _ ) -came down the walkway, he waved, trying to get their attention.

The two of them came marching over, coming to a stop before him.

“Mr. Bilbo Baggins, I assume?” Thorin asked, his voice deeper than it had been, the slightest traces of his old accent in his words.

“Indeed, rightfully so, Lord Durin,” Bilbo said, plastering a smile on his face as he gave a slight bow.

Thorin flinched, drawing back a step. “Lord… Durin?”

“Well… Well, of course you are,” Bilbo said, unable to contain his nervous chuckle. “Well, your father’s dead -and my condolences on his passing -and that makes you Lord Durin, head of Erebor Manor now. And, and, of course, there’s the boys. Your nephews, Lord -”

“Eh, let’s… just stick with Thorin, now, shall we, lad?” The older man said, taking a step forward, giving Bilbo a pointed look. “Or Mr. Durin if you’d like.”

Bilbo nodded quickly. “Of course. Of course, as you like, Mr. Durin, and Mr… ?”

“Fundin. Balin Fundin, at your service, Mr. Baggins,” The older man said genially. “Very nice to meet you. Isn’t it, Thorin?”

Thorin, who’d been standing there, staring off into the distance, seemed to come back to himself, and he nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course, Mr. Baggins. Have you made the travel arrangements?”

“Tra -Ah, yes, traveling. I’ve got a coach ready, and, and, we can be off as soon as you’ve gotten your luggage.”

Thorin held up a small travelling case. “I’ve learned to travel light, Mr. Baggins. We can leave immediately.”

“Right. Right! Alright then, Lo -Mr. Durin, sir, if you’ll follow me this way. We’ve got a three hour ride ahead of us. Enough time for me to… fill you in, as it were, on the details of the estate.”

* * *

Thorin sat, ramrod straight, staring out the window at the countryside as it passed them by, breathing in the fresh air now that they were out of Bristol.

“Well, now then.”

Thorin turned, looking at Bilbo Baggins, sitting across from he and Balin. The funny little man had folded his hands in his lap, and was wringing them together uncomfortably -a feeling Thorin could sympathize with, even if he wouldn’t allow himself to show it.

“I suppose the most important detail is the boys, Lo -Mr. Durin. Your nephews.”

Thorin nodded. “Aye. Fili and Kili. The older one must be eight or so?”

Thorin didn’t miss the flash of anger in Mr. Baggins’ eyes, the way his hands stopped wringing, just for a moment, clenching into fists, before it passed, and he shook his head. The smile he plastered on was fake enough that Thorin found it painful to look at.

“No, Mr. Durin, Fili is almost thirteen now. His birthday is in two months, actually. Kili turned nine just last month.”

Thorin’s mouth fell open before he could stop the reaction, and he snapped it shut again quickly. Had it been so long? “I… I apologize, Mr. Baggins, our… Letters come so infrequently, and with the ranch, I find it difficult to keep track of things here.”

Mr. Baggins nodded tightly, the fake smile still plastered on. “Well, of course you do. Keeping care of… what was it, a thousand head?”

“Two thousand,” Balin supplied, and Thorin could see how uncomfortable his friend was at this awkward interaction. “Almost twenty five hundred this last year.”

“Ah yes. I’m sure that’s very difficult, very hard to keep track of your relations here. After all, the journey is so long, I’m sure that’s why you missed Dis’ funeral. Completely understandable.”

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the crushing weight of guilt, allowing himself to wallow in it, for just a moment, before he opened them again. “Mr. Baggins, let’s have honesty between us, can’t we? I think you’ve made it quite clear your feelings about me, and I’ll admit I have no idea what I’m walking to here. So let’s just make a clean conversation of it, and avoid unnecessary, and fake, pleasantries.”

Mr. Baggins stared at him for a moment, his eyes calculating before he nodded sharply. “Fine. Fine, if you’d prefer that, I’d be more than happy to indulge you, Mr. Durin. You want the truth, and I shall give it you, unedited, and unabridged. The boys are… delicate, Mr. Durin. Frerin, your brother, disappeared a few years before Dis’ death, and the boys were left in the care of your father until his passing last year. Even before your sister’s death, he was their primary guardian by law.”

Thorin couldn’t hold back his flinch at the thought, but he shoved the guilt down, trying to focus on the task at hand. “I remember well how my father handled children, Mr. Baggins. There’s no need for you to explain.”

“Oh, but I’m afraid there is. To put it quite bluntly, Mr. Durin, those two boys are a right mess. Kili, more so, but even Fili to an extent, although he masks it better than his brother. And I’m sure you still bear the remembrance of your childhood with your father. His madness, and his cruelty only grew worse with your leaving,” Mr. Baggins said sharply, his tone disapproving. “And while your sister did her best to shield them from it, I daresay they suffered worse than you or your brother ever did. And they bear the weight of that, make no mistake.”

“Mr. Baggins -” Balin started, but Mr. Baggins held up his hand, cutting him off.

“No, Mr. Fundin, I will say my peace, because if it’s not said here, I won’t have it said in front of the boys. It’s been sixteen years, since I last saw you, Thorin Durin, and I can’t say what kind of man you’ve become in that time. Particularly living in the colonies as you were. I couldn’t fight your father for them; he had ever legal right to treat them however he pleased, and I had no moral or legal authority to do bugger all about it. But you…  _ You _ , I can fight. The boys have been in my care since Thrain’s passing, and your proclivities will still be remembered, make no mistake about it. While I don’t give a rat’s arse either way what you do in the dead of night, I will use anything I can if it comes to it. I won’t have them hurt anymore. No more, Mr. Durin, do we understand each other? I will drag the Durin name through the mud, and see Erebor burned to ash before I let you hurt them further. I’ve looked after them, as best I can, and I won’t have it! I won’t!”

* * *

Bilbo could feel his heart hammering away in his chest at the end of his speech, and he watched Thorin carefully, waiting for his response.

But Thorin only held his gaze, before giving him a tight nod. “I understand, Mr. Baggins. While I’ll admit I nothing of raising children… I give you my word, I mean no harm to either of the children. I don’t know, as of yet, what will happen in the future, but of that, I assure you. I remember well what it was like, at my father’s tender mercies, and I’ll not see the lads suffer any further.”

Bilbo struggled to keep his eyes from popping, but he managed a nod. “Well… Good. See that you don’t.”

Thorin nodded again, and sat forward a bit. “What can you tell me of them?”

Bilbo, however, sat back, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbing at his forehead. “Well. How to describe them, then? Well, I’d rather say that Kili is a timid child, quite withdrawn for his age. He rarely speaks, even to me, although I know he converses freely with his brother, when they believe no one to be listening. While Fili has some memory of his father, and Frerin, Kili has neither. The only male influence in his life has been his grandfather, your father. So don’t be overly surprised if he’s frightened of you.”

“I… understand.”

“Yes, well. Fili, on the other hand, is… well, he’s a rather angry boy, Mr. Durin, and no mistake. He’ll not welcome you with open arms, I promise you that. He defended his brother as well he could, and was punished often for it. While he’s been in my care, he’s been… rather difficult. It’s only through generous donations to the local constabulary that I’ve kept him from ending up in a foundlings home, or worse.”

Thorin started, his face full of dread for a moment, as he spoke. “He’s violent, then?”

Bilbo hesitated, before shaking his head. “Not as such, Mr. Durin, not as such. The few people who have been hurt… well, I’d say it was rather accidental.”

“Wait, now, Mr. Baggins,” Mr. Fundin interrupted. “How do you accidentally hurt someone?”

“Well… He’s rather unfond of being touched. Typically, his actions are more of a vandalizing nature. Paint on barns, nicking things from shops, and the like. But… well, thrice now, he’s been caught in the act, and he’s lashed out rather violently when restrained. He gave a farmer a black eye, and broke a shopkeep’s arm when they attempted to grab at him.”

“Can’t fault the lad for that,” Thorin muttered, so quiet Bilbo could only just hear him. “Not his fault, he can hardly be blamed for that.”

“No, indeed, he can’t, and I’m glad to hear you so understanding, Mr. Durin. The lad meant no harm either time, but those are the facts, such as it were. He’s a good lad, at the core of it; I’ve gotten to know both of them rather well, particularly since I became their carer, and he’s a  _ good  _ lad. But as I said, he’ll not welcome you with any sort of kindness.”

“Dammit all, Thorin,” Mr. Fundin cursed, glancing over at Thorin. “What sort of man… “

Thorin just shook his head. “My father was… “His voice trailed off, and he turned to gaze out the window of the coach again.

“To be rather blunt about it, Mr. Fundin,” Bilbo said, after it became clear that Thorin either wouldn’t or couldn’t say more on the matter. “Lord Thrain was a man who was quite mad. From what my father and grandfather said, he was always cruel, and more so when he was deep in his cups, something he did with astounding regularity. In the last two years of his life, it became quite impossible to tell the difference between his madness, and his drinking.”

Mr. Fundin cursed again, his gaze moving between Thorin and Bilbo. “And they call our home ‘barbaric’ and ‘savage’,” He muttered.

“Well, I can’t speak to your life in Australia, Mr. Fundin, but I won’t gainsay the point. But you won’t have an easy time with either of them, Mr. Durin, and that’s the simple truth of the matter. If I understood your letter correctly, you’re unsure of your future plans as of yet? Mr. Durin? Thorin.”

Thorin turned, his eyes still leagues away for a moment, before he shook himself a bit. “I’m sorry, Mr. Baggins; could you…”

Bilbo sighed. “What, exactly, do you intend to do, Mr. Durin?”

“I… I hadn’t given it much thought. Obviously, I have, but I… I haven’t come to any conclusions, as of yet.”

“Well then. If I understood you correctly, you left your ranch in the hands of someone capable?”

Mr. Fundin sat forward again. “Aye, he did. My brother Dwalin will keep things going while we settle matters here.”

“Good. Then, if I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, Mr. Durin?” When Thorin nodded for him to continue, Bilbo took a deep breath. “Stay in Erebor Manor for a few months. Let’s say… five months. The winter storms will be coming soon, and you can’t rightfully travel the seas during that time without great risk. Stay until the spring; get to know the boys. Give them the chance to know you. Besides, there’s still the matter of the estate, and the titles to work through. Even if we hurried the process along, it’d take at least two months to get matters properly dealt with.” He nodded, almost to himself. “Yes, I’d say the earliest would be spring. I’ll get all the arrangements set; of course, you’ll stay the manor. There’s still enough staff there to keep everything running smoothly; I’m sure Mrs. O’Brien will be delighted to see you again.”

At that, Thorin did get a small smile on his face. “Is she still there? She must be pushing her seventies by now.”

“We celebrated her seventy-third birthday two months ago,” Bilbo said, returning his smile.

“She still making her prize winning pies?”

“Well, her granddaughter does now; Mrs. O’Brien’s losing her eyesight, you see,” Bilbo explained.

With that, the conversation turned to more pleasant things, although it was a bit forced on all sides.

And the ride passed.


	2. Memories Past

As the coach pulled away from the manor, leaving the three men in front of the ornate stone steps, Balin couldn’t help but notice the pained look on Thorin’s face, as he stared up at the large building.

“Right then! We’re here. I… If you wouldn’t mind waiting here, for a few minutes, Mr. Durin? Just so I can… prepare the boys.”

Thorin looked as if he hadn’t even heard the man, so Balin nodded.

“That’ll be fine, Mr. Baggins, just come and get us when they’re ready. No hurry; make sure they’re settled.”

Mr. Baggins nodded, and disappeared inside the house, closing the door gently behind him.

“Thorin. Oi, Oakenshield,” Balin said sharply, letting out a sigh of relief when Thorin turned towards him, like a man yanked suddenly from a dream. “Pull yourself together, lad.”

He kept his voice as gentle as possible, despite his words. Balin counted himself amongst the few Thorin trusted, that the man actually called ‘friend’ and meant it, but Balin had gained more understanding of his friend in the three hour ride than he had in the twelve years he’d known the man. He’d always been quiet about his past, saying little more than that his kin were nobility, and leaving it at that. And Balin and Dwalin had never pushed, nor pried, content to let the matter settle itself.

But now, he was beginning to wonder if that had been the right course of action. Thorin the unflappable, Thorin Oakenshield, looked positively spooked, staring up at the manor, as if the ghosts of his past were coming back to haunt him.

And perhaps they were, he reminded himself.

“If you’ve no wish to stay, laddie, we can leave. We saw the town on the drive in, we can leave if that’s what you wish. But if we’re staying… You need to pull yourself together.”

Thorin released a shuddering breath, scrubbing his face with one hand. “You’re right. You’re right, of course, Balin.” He grabbed Balin firmly by the shoulder. “Thank you, my friend.”

Balin returned the gesture, giving Thorin a smile. “Of course I am. The brains of the outfit, after all.” He let the smile drop, and the two men stared at the front door. “We’ll get the matter settled, Thorin. We’ll do what it takes, and we’ll see it done.”

Thorin nodded, and took a deep breath. “Well. Now we wait, I suppose.”

“Aye. Now we wait.”

It seemed both an eternity, and a heart’s beating, for Mr. Baggins to return, although Balin had glanced at his pocket watch twice, and knew no more or less than ten minutes had passed before the door to the stately manor opened, and Mr. Baggins peaked around the corner of it.

“Right. Alright, Mr. Durin, Mr. Fundin; won’t you come in and meet the lads? Come on, right this way,” Mr. Baggins babbled, clearly as nervous about the situation as Thorin himself was. As nervous as the boys probably were as well, if Balin had to hazard a guess.

Thorin took a moment, closing his eyes, clearly pulling himself together. When he opened his eyes again, there was no trace of uncertainty, or fear, standing again as Thorin ‘Oakenshield’ Durin. Thorin the Unflappable had returned, and Balin wasn’t sure if he was gladdened of it, or heartbroken as they made their way inside the princely estate.

Once inside, Balin caught his first glimpse of the lads in question. The older, fair-haired and soft lines, didn’t resemble Thorin very much; he was clearly still growing into his height, all gangly limbs, although he did have Thorin’s stocky build. And the glower, he thought to himself, seeing the frown and stare he was directing at what he must’ve viewed as two invaders in his home.

The littler one… If he recalled correctly, Mr. Baggins had said he was just past his ninth birthday; although Balin would admit he didn’t have much -or any, really -experience with children, the boy seemed smaller than he should be. But he could quite clearly see Thorin in the boy, from the dark hair to the hard, sharp angles of his face, although the latter was harder to see. The wee thing was leaning into his brother, his head hung low, glancing at Balin and Thorin through his long hair, a fearful look on his face.

“Ah, well. Fili, Kili… This is your Uncle Thorin. Mr. Durin, these are your nephews, Fili, and Kili.”

Thorin took a step forward, coming to a sudden stop when the younger lad took a small step back, further hiding behind his brother. After a moment, he knelt down on one knee, his face unreadable as he nodded towards the both of them.

“Hello, boys. It’s a pleasure to meet you. This is my good friend, Balin Fundin.”

The younger one -Kili, Balin reminded himself -ducked his head further, pressing himself tighter against his brother, who only glared, first at Thorin, then at Balin, then back at Thorin.

“What’s he here for, then?” He demanded, his arm going around his brother’s shoulders, and holding tightly.

“Balin is a very good friend of mine,” Thorin said, his voice calm as he held Fili’s gaze. “He’s a good man; he’s been by my side through hell and back, and he agreed to accompany me here from Australia.”

Fili held Thorin’s gaze for a moment longer, before he turned towards Mr. Baggins. “Can we go now?”

Mr. Baggins sighed, a clear look of disappointment on his face. “Fili, I really think -”

“No,” Thorin interrupted. “If they wish to leave, I’ve no quarrel with it. After all, this is their home, and they’re entitled to come and go as they please. Although, I would be delighted if I could join them for dinner, this evening.”

Fili turned again, anger in his eyes as he looked Thorin up and down. After a tense moment, he nodded. “If that’s your wish,  _ Lord Durin _ .” Before anyone could respond, he took his brother by the hand. “C’mon, Kili.”

No one moved as the boys left. Then, almost as one, all three men released a breath as the boys disappeared up the stairs.

“Well… that went about as well as I expected,” Mr. Baggins muttered, patting at his head with his kerchief. “I hope you won’t be too put off, Mr. Durin; as I said, they’re… delicate.”

Thorin stood, looking years older than he was. “No, Mr. Baggins; I understand. Although, if you could do something for me, Mr. Baggins?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, what is it?”

“My name is Thorin; I haven’t used the name ‘Durin’ since I set sail on the  _ Augusta  _ sixteen years ago, simply Thorin. As well, it’s not likely to endear me to them,” He added, nodding his head in the general direction the boys had scampered off in. “I’ll take no offense to you addressing me as such.”

“Ah, well… Yes, of course, if that’s what you wish, Mr… Thorin. No need to stand on etiquette, after all, I suppose,” Mr. Baggins said, somewhat nervously. “Quite right, quite right. Well, if you’ll follow me, gentlemen, I can show you to your rooms.”

As they trailed along through the house, Thorin frowned a bit. “What happened to Mr. Siedewick?”

“Oh, he died about ten years back, and Lord Thrain never saw fit to replace him. Wasn’t like we had many guests here, after all. No, I’m afraid it’s the cleaning staff, and Mrs. O’Brien and her grandaughter now. Ah, here we are. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve put you up in the guest rooms. Once we get you a bit more… established, as it were, we can arrange getting you in Lord Thrain’s old rooms.”

“ _ No _ .”

Even Balin, who knew Thorin well, found himself flinching back from the sharp, angry tone in Thorin’s voice; poor Mr. Baggins looked positively frightened as he froze, hand hovering near the doorknob. “I… I’m sorry?”

Thorin took a deep breath. “I… apologize, Mr. Baggins. But there’s not enough wealth in the world that could make me stay in those rooms. The guest rooms are fine; besides, I’m sure the boys will be much more comfortable with me as far away from them as possible.”

“Right. Right, of course. Well, then, if I’m to call you ‘Thorin’, I suppose you should rightly call me ‘Bilbo’,” The wee man said after a few moments of silence. “This is your room, Thorin, and Mr. Fundin -”

“Oh, come off it, lad; if we’re calling each other by first names, I’m Balin,” Balin interrupted. “Never been one for pomp and ceremony.”

“Quite right, quite right. Well, Balin, your room is just here across the hall. I imagine you’ll want to rest up, and freshen up, after your trip. Dinner will be at seven; I’m sure Mrs. O’Brien and Josie will have something special cooked up.”

“That’ll be fine, Bilbo,” Thorin said, setting his bag down just inside the door. “Oh, and please… Let the boys know, I don’t expect formal wear at dinner. Whatever they wish to wear is fine.”

Mr. Baggins -Bilbo -nodded, his face looking quite pleased. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, Thorin; it had been a rule of your father’s, as I’m sure you recall, but I’ve not enforced it since he died. Um… Well… Right then, I’ll be off. Ring if you need something, yes?”

“Of course. Thank you, Bilbo.”

Balin waited until Bilbo started down the hall. Then he leaned over, looking at Thorin. “Company?”

Thorin hesitated, before nodding. “Aye. Let’s walk the grounds.”

Balin nodded in agreement, more than happy to leave the gloomy, depressing house behind as they made their way back downstairs, and out the front door.

Thorin seemed to agree; some of the tension he’d had since they’d first stepped off the boat disappeared, and he seemed to breathe a bit easier as they made their way to the gardens off to the left of the house.

Thorin appeared to be moving with a destination in mind; he lead Balin round for a few minutes, before finally nodding in satisfaction as they approached a tree, with a stone bench underneath.

“This is where Frerin, Dis, and I used to come when Thrain was in one of his moods,” He said, coming to a halt in front of the bench, but not sitting. “Can’t see this from any of the windows, and we could disappear up the tree quick enough if anyone came outside searching.”

Balin sighed, coming to a stop next to Thorin, and staring at the bench. “I’m sorry, lad; I knew your family was… well, less than fond of you, but I didn’t know…”

Thorin lowered his head for a moment. When he looked up, his face was that unreadable mask, the one he’d worn for so long before he learned to trust Balin and Dwalin.

“I… I hope you do not think less of me, Balin,” He said quietly, looking up at the tree. “For running. I… I shall admit to it now, it was a cowardly deed. “

“You were barely more than a child, when you left here, Thorin. You’re no more to blame than those boys.”

Thorin scoffed, sitting heavily on the bench, folding his arms across his knees. “If I had stayed, perhaps I could’ve -”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Balin interrupted, sitting down next to him. “The rules of Company, Thorin. ‘We don’t speak of what might have been if we had done what we didn’t’. You’re here now. We’ll sort out this mess, one way or another.”

Thorin sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. When he looked up again, his face was a bit more sure of itself, and he even managed a small smile. “Aye. We’ll sort it out.” He stood, and offered Balin a hand up. “Now come on; the manor itself may be more desolate than a crypt, but the grounds were always well-kept; my sister oversaw the gardens with the staff, and they were beautiful indeed.”

Balin looked at him askance, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “You sure she was related to you, then? There’s a reason we went with livestock over crops, after all.”

Thorin chuckled. “She had most of the good traits, Dis did. She was an exceptional gardener, and poet. Did I ever tell you, she spoke four languages? French, German, Spanish, and Italian. Beautiful handwriting, as well. Our tutor, Mr. Nelson, always said she was one of the brightest students he’d ever taught,” Thorin said, and there was a fondness there Balin hadn’t heard before. “She was… incredible. Frerin and I used to get in so much mischief, and she was… always there to pull us out. Always ready to fix whatever we’d broken.”

Balin smiled. “She sounds like quite the woman, laddie. And what of your brother? Frerin, did you say?”

Thalin nodded. “He was a good lad. Fili… It was uncanny, Balin. Looking at him, it was like seeing Frerin again. He was about that age, when I left. They could’ve been twins. Although… Frerin was far more… timid,” He finished slowly, his face falling again. “He was much more like Kili in that regard.”

An unpleasant silence fell, before Balin cleared his throat. “I noticed the funny little fellow said he went missing, not that he was dead.”

Thorin nodded. “Indeed. Six years ago, I received a letter from Dis, saying that Frerin had left in the night. The last letter I received from her, a year later, said there had been several sightings, but nothing could ever be found as proof. I imagine that, much like myself, he left to the continent, or the colonies. But it’s a dangerous journey; I myself only barely survived my trip to Australia, and… as I said, Frerin was a timid lad at the best of times. We may not have parted on the best of terms, but I cannot imagine he wouldn’t have come to me for aid, or at least communicated with me; the family knew where I was. I had nothing to fear from them knowing my location; I was an adult, and free to do as I pleased. The fact that he didn’t at least send a letter tells me he didn’t survive the journey. Although Bilbo was kind enough not to say it.”

Balin wasn’t sure what to say to that. So he said nothing at all.

* * *

Bilbo sighed as he glanced out the window, watching Thorin and his friend -Balin, it was -wander the grounds. Although he couldn’t make out their words, he could see the anger and frustration and sadness on Thorin’s face, enough to know what their conversation was about.

“I don’t like them.”

Bilbo jumped, although he didn’t shriek -he absolutely didn’t - turning to spot Fili standing next to him, glaring out the window at the pair.

“Fili! We’ve talked about this! You’re liable to give my poor heart a fit, sneaking about, silent as a mouse like that,” He said, although he kept his voice gentle. “Where’s your brother?”

“Hiding under his bed,” Fili responded, almost absently, still glaring out the window. “Imagine we won’t be able to get him out ‘til supper at the earliest.” He spoke as if it was no more concerning than supper itself.

Bilbo sighed, again, wanting to lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder, but having learned better long ago. “Fili… We’ve talked about this. I… I understand that you don’t know them. But I knew Thorin, when I was about your age. And he was a good, and decent lad. He had a kind heart, although he hid it away. Much like yourself.”

“He’s a stranger. And a queer one, at that. Lord Durin always said so,” Fili mumbled, almost to himself.

“Your grandfather said a great many things, Fili. Less than  _ none  _ of them were true, and we both know it,” Bilbo said gently. “Your Uncle Thorin is a good man; I wouldn’t have brought him here if he wasn’t.” At Fili’s side-eye look, Bilbo frowned. “Fili, when your grandfather died, I promised to look after you boys; to keep you both safe, and taken care of. Haven’t I done that? In the year I’ve been looking after you, have I given you any reason to distrust me? Have I done anything to harm you, or Kili?”

Fili shook his head, finally looking away from the window to meet Bilbo’s eyes. “You’ve done right by us, Mr. Baggins. But you said it yourself, when you set out to meet him: you haven’t seen him in almost twenty years. And he’s been living in the colonies. You don’t know what type of man he is now.”

Bilbo started to argue, before he stopped. “You’re right, Fili. Of course, you are absolutely right. I haven’t seen him in longer than you’ve been alive. And he might’ve changed, that is absolutely true. But on the journey here, we came to an agreement, your uncle and I; he will stay until the winter storms have passed, most likely April, or even May, perhaps. And I made it quite clear to him that if I found him lacking, or unsuitable, in any way, I wouldn’t allow him to remain your guardian.”

“You can’t stop him,” Fili said darkly, before giving him the side-eyed look again. “Can you?”

Bilbo took a chance, and reached out slowly, lightly setting his hand on Fili’s arm as he bent over a bit, putting himself at face level with the boy. “My dear Fili… I would fight off the King himself to keep you boys safe. I gave you my word, and I mean to keep it. You understand? I will do whatever it takes to keep you and Kili safe.”

Fili glanced down at the hand on his arm, and -without appearing to have moved at all -sidestepped away from it, his face unreadable.

“I remember what you said, Mr. Baggins. I’ll see you at dinner. I’ll make sure Kili’s there.”


	3. Old Friends and Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm sure you noticed, I changed the title; the first one just didn't really seem to fit, I suppose. As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. :)

Thorin sighed, sitting up in his bed. He’d been trying to sleep, exhaustion laying heavy on him, for the better part of three hours. But sleep had refused to come, and it had only left him feeling even more cranky as the hours had passed. But now, it was a half hour until supper, and despite the years that had passed, a cold dread seized his heart at the thought of being late.

A knock on the door made him jump, and he silently cursed himself, even as he struggled to lace up his boots.

“Thorin? You in there, Oakenshield?”

For a reason he couldn’t fathom, Thorin sighed in relief, crossing the room in two strides, and throwing the door open.

“Aye, I’m here. Once more unto the breach, dear friend?” He said, giving Balin a forced smirk.

“Always another breach,” Balin complained good-naturedly. “Luckily, this time we shouldn’t need our pistols; I’d hate for you to kill another innocent ‘roo by accident.”

Thorin rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he exited the room, closing the door behind him before starting down the hall. “One time, Balin. It was one time.”

“Oh come off it now, laddie; you’re an excellent swordsman, and a better brawler, but you’re easily the worst shot in Australia, and that’s no mistake.”

“Oh, and I suppose  _ you’re  _ an expert.”

“Compared to you? I am. Why, I remember -oh.”

Both Thorin and Balin pulled up short, surprised to round the corner and come face to face with the two boys, the two pairs nearly colliding. Only Thorin’s arm kept Balin from walking straight into the smaller one.

Before either man could do much more to react, the older one -Fili -had grabbed the younger by the back of his shirt, and dragged him behind him, glaring daggers at them both.

“I… Apologies, boys. We didn’t see you round the corner there,” Thorin said, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “We didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Fili said shortly, although he didn’t move from his spot, one arm still stretched behind him, keeping Kili behind him. The little one buried his face against his brother’s back, looking out through his hair at Thorin and Balin fearfully.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it then. We were just heading down to supper, if you’d like to escort us?” Thorin offered, struggling to keep his voice level.

“You lived here,  _ Lord Durin _ ,” Fili practically spat his words. “I’m sure you can find your way to the dining room unaided.”

“Please, call me ‘Thorin’; I understand you don’t know me well enough to call me ‘uncle’, and I don’t expect it, but I’m not Lord Durin. And I won’t be, no matter what anybody else ever tells you. But as to the dining room… Well, you’re absolutely right, I’m sure I remember the way, or near enough. But if we’re all headed there, there’s no reason for us not to go together, is there?”

Thorin could see the indecision on the boy’s face, anger warring with fear, as clear as day, as he struggled with a response. Thorin was unsure of what to say, how to fix the situation, when Balin spoke up.

“Well, Thorin, if they wish to trail behind, I see no harm in it; after all, I’m sure they wish to find Mr. Baggins, and make sure he’s not late?”

Thorin frowned at him, before understanding dawned on him. “Right. Of course. Well then, boys, I suppose we’ll see you at dinner. Again, our apologies if we had startled you.”

Thorin carefully moved around the boys, Balin close on his heels, as they began moving down the hall. Though he didn’t look back, Thorin could feel Fili’s eyes on him, watching his movements as they walked.

“Well, that could’ve went better,” Balin muttered, as soon as they were down the stairs, and back on the main level.

“It could’ve went far worse as well,” Thorin countered, heading down another hallway. “At least they didn’t take off running.”

Balin snorted. “Thorin, I can as easily picture the older one running away, as I can picture  _ you  _ running away.” He paused for a moment, looking around. “This bloody house is massive; can’t believe the dining room is this far from the front door. Makes no sense at all,” He grumbled.

Thorin chuckled. “It’s not. But the kitchens are. Come on. There’s someone I wish to reacquaint myself with.”

He travelled down the halls as he spoke, the memories of the twisting rooms coming back to him as if he’d never left.

Finally, after a few minutes, he found himself walking into an all-too-familiar room, with an all-too-familiar figure hunched over the cookstove.

“I hope you made some pies to go with dinner,” He called out, stepping into the center of the room.

The old woman spun around, her face lighting up with joy, tears in her eyes. She simply stared for a moment, before she started hobbling her way towards him, leaning heavily on her cane.

Thorin met her before she could go very far, swooping her up in a hug.

“Oh, Master Thorin. Thorin Durin, back in my kitchen again,” She sobbed, clinging onto him tightly. “I never thought I’d see you again, you daft, mischievous bugger, you!” After, perhaps, a minute, she pulled back. “Oh my, just look at you! All grown up, and handsome as the devil himself, aren’t you, boyo? Josie! Josie, where’d you run off to? Josie, come and meet Master Thorin! Oh, Master Thorin, it’s so good to see you again!”

Thorin smiled, grabbing her hands. “It’s good to see you too, Maggie. I might not have missed much about England, but your food topped the list of things I did miss. And your company wasn’t far behind either,” He said softly.

“Oh, Master Thorin, you charmer. Oh! Oh, my, who’s this then?” She pulled her hands free, apparently just having noticed Balin, who -Thorin noted -was standing there, a grin on his face. “Oh, and I’ve flour on my face and all.”

“Maggie, I would very much like to introduce you to my good friend, Balin Fundin. He and his brother have been my companions for almost as long as I’ve been gone. Balin, this is Maggie O’Brien, the best cook in England.”

Maggie blushed, taking a few wobbling steps towards Balin, who crossed the room in a few paces to meet her. “Oh, Master Fundin, it’s a pleasure, sir. A pleasure, indeed. Any friend of Mastet Thorin’s is a friend of mine, and welcome in my kitchen. Maggie O’Brien, at your service, Master Fundin.”

Balin nodded, still smiling, as he gave Maggie a polite bow. “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. O’Brien. Thorin didn’t often speak of his home, but he told many a story about the feasts you prepared for him. It kept us going through some long and hungry nights, those tales.”

Maggie beamed at him, and Thorin felt a piece of his heart turning into melted goo at the sight. “Well, Master Fundin -”

“Balin, please, Mrs. O’Brien,” Balin interrupted.

“Ah, Master Balin, yes, but you must call me Maggie. No need to stand on ceremony, not here in my kitchen. Oh! Oh, but I’d nearly forgotten, it’s supper time! That’s where Josie ran off to! Oh, Master Thorin, to the dining room with you! Can’t be late for your first proper meal back home!”

Thorin was torn, not wanting to leave the calm, familiar comfort of the large kitchen. “Maggie, I’d rather -”

“Oh, nonsense, Master Thorin, nonsense! Josie and I made you a veritable feast, we did! And the wee ones, the bairns, they’ll be expecting you! Such good lads they are, Master Thorin, so much like you and Frerin were. Mustn’t keep them waiting, they’ll get all kinds of out of sorts. Skittery, those two, although they’ve as much cause as your brother had, I wager. But we mustn’t keep them waiting, or the food will get cold.”

Thorin hesitated for a moment, before offering Maggie his arm. “Well, if you insist, I shall head to the dining room. But only if you’ll accompany us, and join us for our meal, Maggie.”

“Oh, Master Thorin, it isn’t proper, it isn’t,” Maggie said, her voice scandalized, but she took his arm nonetheless, leaning heavily on it as their little procession started back down the halls. “But I suppose this is a special occasion, after all, a very special occasion. Why, yes, of course I’ll join you.”

* * *

“Hmm, I do hope Thorin didn’t get lost.”

Fili rolled his eyes, leaning back casually in his chair. He was half-tempted to prop his feet up on the table, just to see how far he could push things.

“He grew up here, you said. How could he get lost?” He asked sarcastically, finally settling on draping his leg over the chair. He grinned at the scandalized look in Bilbo’s eyes, but then he felt a small pinch on his arm. He turned, frowning at Kili, who frowned right back, before glancing over at Bilbo, then back at Fili, his frown deepening.

After a second, Fili threw his arms in the air. “Fine,” He muttered, putting his leg down. “You happy now?”

Kili nodded very seriously, and turned his attention back to the empty plate sitting in front of him, and Fili sighed.

“If he’s not here soon, Bilbo, we’ll have to eat without him,” He said warningly. “Kili is -”

He cut off short, hearing laughter coming from the hallway, the familiar sound of Maggie’s croaking laugh mixing in with what he presumed to be Thorin’s deeper one. He glanced over at Kili, and couldn’t help the wave of anger he felt, when he saw how his little brother had gone tenser than a fiddle in his chair.

“S’alright, Kili; I won’t let anything happen,” He whispered, leaning over at rubbing Kili’s shoulder. “Besides, that’s Maggie coming too.”

Kili finally glanced up, staring at him through his hair, a hopeful look on his face. Fili forced a smile at that.

“Aye, Maggie. And afterwards, I’m sure she’ll have some biscuits for you in the kitchen, hm?”

That was all he had time for, as Thorin entered the room slowly, Maggie on one arm, the two still laughing. Thorin’s friend -Fili couldn’t remember his name -was right behind them, and he was chuckling as well.

“Ah, Thorin! The lads and I were wondering if perhaps you’d gotten lost!” Bilbo said pleasantly, standing up, and motioning for the boys to do the same. Kili, of course, immediately jumped to his feet.

Fili, however, remained sitting, giving Thorin as insolent a smile as he could muster. “ _ Bilbo _ was wondering;  _ I _ said if you couldn’t figure it out, you didn’t deserve it.”

“Oi, Master Fili!” Maggie said, her voice sharp and reproachful. “You mind your tongue, young master! Or there’ll be no after-dinner biscuits!”

Fili felt her tone cut him to the quick, and he bowed his head towards her as he stood. “M’sorry, Maggie. I meant no disrespect.”

“I take no offense, Maggie,” Thorin said quickly, breaking the tense silence. “None taken at all. In fact, Fili rather has a point. And I do owe the boys and Mr. Baggins an apology for my tardiness. But I thought it would make our meal more pleasant with Maggie’s company, so I detoured to the kitchen to get our esteemed guest of honor,” He said with a smile, as he helped Maggie to the head chair.

“Oh, Master Thorin, I couldn’t, that’s to be -”

“Ah, none of that, Maggie. Besides, it’s the biggest chair of the lot, and the comfiest too, I shouldn’t wonder,” Thorin interrupted, pulling out Lord Durin’s chair, and helping her into it. Fili noticed he was careful to be gentle as he pushed the chair back in, sitting in the seat to her left, as Bilbo had taken up his customary chair to the right of Lord Durin’s usual spot.

“Well, boyos, don’t let all my hard work go cold! Eat, eat!” Maggie encouraged, and Fili couldn’t help but return the large smile she gave him and Kili with a small one of his own. “Oh, Master Fili, be a dear, and make sure your brother doesn’t knock over the gravy again, hmm?” She leaned over towards Thorin. “Perhaps now that you’re home again, we can get a smaller table? Or bigger chairs. Poor Master Kili practically gets lost trying to reach for things.”

Thorin smiled back at her, and Fili saw him pat her hand. “Whatever you and they wish, Maggie. Hell, I’ve never much liked eating here anyways; if you like, we could always eat in the kitchen, as we used to.”

Fili could feel Kili brighten at that, casting hopeful glances at Maggie, before Fili kicked him with his foot, giving him a warning glare. Immediately, Kili looked back down at his plate, and began eating, rather woodenly. When Fili looked back at the adults at the other end of the table, he saw Thorin staring at him, a small frown on his face, which Fili returned with the best scowl he could muster.

“Kili’s fine, Lord Durin,” He said, putting as much contempt in his voice as he could. “No need to trouble yourself on our account.”

Thorin looked over at him, really looked at him, for the first time, his cold, dark, unreadable eyes -so much like Lord Durin’s, Fili could feel his skin crawl -and held his eyes for a moment.

“I took my own meals in the kitchen often enough, Fili, whenever my father, Lord Durin, wouldn’t catch me at it. I never much cared for this room at all.”

Fili noticed, with no small amount of discomfort, that although Thorin seemed to be looking directly at him, his eyes were distant, as if staring through him at something else behind him. When he turned his head, to see what he could’ve been looking at, he felt a stab of fear through his heart.

_ Kili was the only thing of note behind him. _

He stood, so quick as to rattle the table, knocking over his glass. He ignored it, forcing himself not to shake, as he looked only at Bilbo. “We’re finished. We’ll take our leave.”

He felt Kili’s small hand tugging on his pants, but he ignored it, as he tried to ignore the loud beating of his heart, shoving his chair back, and scooping Kili up in his arms as best he could.

“Why, Fili, whatever has gotten into you? Kili isn’t even done eating yet!” Bilbo said, his voice easily sliding up an entire octave.

“He has. He’s full up, couldn’t stand to eat another bite,” Fili managed, before, holding Kili as tight as he could, he fled the room.


	4. Mistakes Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than usual, but it seemed like a good spot to end it.
> 
> If you enjoy reading this, feel free to leave a comment! I love comments, they make my day. :)

Balin and Maggie did their best to try and recover what was left of meal time, but Thorin couldn’t bring himself to converse. In fact, the food he had so looked forward to -Maggie’s roast venison with potatoes and mushrooms-now stared back at him from his plate, as if daring him to try and eat it with his stomach roiling as it was.

Glancing over at Bilbo, the man looked as upset as Thorin felt, his face pale and nervous, as the little man shoved his food around the plate with his fork. Thorin could tell that he was trying to keep up with the conversation, adding small, insignificant comments here or there, but clearly, his heart wasn’t in it anymore than Thorin’s was.

After a few more minutes, Thorin pushed himself to his feet.

“I… I’m sorry. If you will all excuse me, I think I’m quite finished,” He said, struggling to keep his voice even as he pushed his chair in. He quickly finished off the rest of his ale, before turning towards the doorway.

“Thorin, wait!” Thorin turned, glancing behind him at Bilbo, who was staring at him somewhat wildly as he spoke. “Thorin, please, they just… give them  _ time _ . Please. They just need some time, that’s all. They’ll come round if you just give them some time.”

Thorin shook his head. “No, Master Baggins… I won’t have them tiptoeing around, scared out of their wits of me. I shall speak to them, and set the matter straight, if nothing else. It might not help them to trust me,” He admitted quietly, “but it may help me to sleep better tonight at least.”

Balin stood as well, his face clearly torn as to what to do. “Thorin… Perhaps you should listen to Mr. Baggins; after all, he understands the lads -”

“No, he does not, Balin,” Thorin said firmly, turning to leave again. “Any better than you do.”

He left, unable to look at them any longer. He knew his words, while true, were also monumentally unfair. But he couldn’t bring himself to take them back either, to apologize.

As he stalked through the manor, making his way through the halls, and up the stairs, he steeled himself against the memories bashing against him, like a ship battered against the shoals. The servants had lit the candles around the manor, and -as they had when he was but a child himself -they cast an eerie glow, almost demonic around the rooms and halls. Every side table, every tapestry, every candle holder, glinting and wavering in the shadows of the drafty rooms.

_ “Father, please, I -” _

_ “Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! I won’t hear it! I won’t!” _

_ “No! No, please, Father, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” _

Thorin froze in place, watching the scene play out before him, breathing fast, before he managed to pull himself back under control. He blinked once, then twice, willing the ghostly images, and haunting echoes to dissipate. After a moment, the hallway was empty, as it had been, the past firmly locked away again, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he started moving again.

It wasn’t until he had made his way to the family rooms, on the east side of the house, that he realized he had no idea which rooms belonged to the boys. There were seven rooms branching off the hallway, but he knew that thudding along, knocking on the doors until he discovered which one the boys were in wouldn’t end well. That was presuming, of course, that he didn’t knock on poor Kili’s door. Besides giving the poor lad a fit, it was liable to send his brother into a rage, from what Thorin had seen.

And what he remembered of his own youth.

He cleared his throat a bit, moving towards the center of the hall as he did, before calling out, “Boys? I’d… I’d like to speak to you, for a moment.”

He heard the sound of something bumping about in what had once been Frerin’s room, when he was a child, and Thorin moved towards the door, knocking on it as gently as he could, putting his ear near the door.

“Fili? Kili? I mean you no harm, boys, but I think -”

“I’ve locked him in.”

Thorin spun, sharply, spotting Fili standing in the doorway to Thorin’s old rooms, fists clenched at his sides.

“What do you mean, you’ve locked him in?” Thorin asked, trying to keep his voice level. Given what he’d seen of the boy, he assumed he had a perfectly good reason for his actions, dangerous as they seemed to Thorin.

“I mean, I’ve locked him in. You can’t go in there, and he can’t come out here, no matter what you do. And I’ve hidden the key.” The boy clenched his fists together, staring at Thorin with pure hatred in his eyes. “I’ve hidden it, and there’s  _ nothing  _ you can do to make me tell you where it is. I  _ won’t _ , you understand?”

Clarity struck Thorin, like a lightning bolt, and he felt the familiar wave of despair course through him, the same wave that hadn’t fully receded since he’d first set foot on land in Bristol. But he nodded, moving towards Fili.

“Alright. That’s fairly done, I suppose,” He said quietly. “Could I… Could you and I, perhaps, talk then? Man to man, as it were.” He could see the hesitation, the confusion on the boy’s face, unsure of how to take Thorin’s offer, his hands opening and clenching again. Thorin sighed. “We can do it right here in the hallway, if you’d rather; there’s nothing I’ll tell you that I won’t tell your brother as well, so if he can overhear it from there, I can see no harm in it.”

For the briefest moment, there was a look of panic in Fili’s eyes, so brief Thorin couldn’t even be sure he saw it. But the lad stepped back from his door, and motioned Thorin inside.

“Won’t you come in, Lord Durin.”

Thorin opened his mouth to correct him, but sighed, deciding against arguing the point right then; seeing as how none of his past requests had been heeded, he doubted the boy would listen any better than that he had before. He simply nodded, and entered the rooms that had once been his.

As Fili shut the door behind him, Thorin moved to the center of the room, taking it all in.

It hadn’t changed overly much; in fact, Thorin was mostly certain that even the furniture was the same, excepting the rug. That had never been there before, but the bed, the bookcase, the desk, and the chest of drawers were the same he’d used as a lad. In fact, the room itself had changed very little, in sixteen years, leaving Thorin with an uncomfortable sense of nostalgia.

Shaking his head free of the memories the room brought back, he moved over to the bookshelf, letting his hands ghost over the titles there. “So you like reading?” He asked, grabbing  _ The Red and the Black _ from its spot, and glancing through it. “I was never much for it; it was more Frerin’s hobby than mine.”

When he received no response, he turned. Fili stood in the center of the room, on the large carpet, hands still clenched into fists at his side, his breathing uneven as he glared.

“Fili?”

“Whatever you’re going to do, just get on with it!” Fili spat, the hatred in his eyes all consuming. “I don’t care! Just get on with it already!”

Thorin set the book back in its proper spot, and then turned back to the boy, holding his hand out in front of him. “Fili, that’s not… That’s not why I’ve come, lad. I wanted to make a clear go of things. I’m not… “ Thorin sighed, scrubbing a hand over his forehead. “Fili, I know you… I know you won’t believe me, but I’m not my father. I mean no harm to you, or your brother. And I swear to you, I will never raise my hand to you, or Kili, in anger.”

“Shit on that! And shit on you!” Fili swore, not moving from where he stood. “You hear me? Shit on you!”

Thorin, who knew exactly what the lad was trying to do, merely gave him a sad smile. “Well, then that’s that, I suppose. I’ve said my piece, and I’ll see myself out.”

Giving the boy a wide berth, he crossed the room to the door. However, he’d barely had time to open it, when Fili’s arm entered his vision, slamming it shut again. Thorin turned, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

“Is there a reason I can’t leave?” He asked calmly, staring at the boy.

“I told you, I’ve locked his door! I’ve locked it, and you can’t get in!” He said, his voice practically hysterical. “You can’t get in without the key, and I’ve hidden it!”

“Aye, so you’ve said. Thrice now, in fact. And if I had any intentions of going to  _ his  _ room, that might actually matter. But since I intend to go to my  _ own  _ rooms, it’s of little concern to me if his door is locked or not,” Thorin said quietly. “In fact, I’m sure if you ask Mr. Baggins, he could give you the key to lock the hallway door to the family rooms entirely. My father had locks on every door in this house, and I’m sure they passed into Mr. Baggin’s care. Feel free to ask him for them. After I leave, of course,” He added, looking down at Fili’s arm, holding the door shut.

Fili yanked his arm back, as if Thorin had burned him. Thorin only nodded, pulling it open, and stepping through.

“Good night then, Fili.”

* * *

Kili, ear pressed against the door, hearing Thorin’s heavy boot steps in the hallway again, then Fili’s door shut. He scrambled back away from the door, ducking into the corner between the fireplace and the desk; from his new position, however, he couldn’t hear if Thorin had continued down the hallway, but since he hadn’t seen his doorknob move, he was content to sit back in his corner, and wait for Fili.

He wasn’t sure how long it took; Kili had never been good at telling time without a timepiece, not like Fili was. But it didn’t seem like long before he heard the telltale signs of a key in the lock, and a few seconds later, the door opened, Fili stepping in and closing it quickly behind him. He locked it behind him, before he took a few staggered steps into the room.

Kili waited until he’d stopped, in the center of the room, before running to him, flinging his arms around him as tight as he could for a moment. When Fili just stood there, panting heavily, Kili pulled back with a frown. He looked him over as best he could, moving round behind him and back again, before Fili grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping his movements.

“I’m fine, Kili. I’m… I’m fine,” He mumbled, before pulling him into a hug. “M’fine.”

“Fili?” Kili couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice, as he pulled back again, finally looking up at his brother’s face, which was white as paper. “Fili, what’s wrong? What’s happened? You hurt? Fili?”

Fili shook his head, slowly -too slowly -as he slumped down on the floor, his back against the bed, knees in front of him, burying his face in his arms as he began to sob.

Kili panicked. He dropped down, kneeling in front of him, as he grabbed at his brother’s hands.

“Fili? Fili, what’s wrong? What happened? Tell me, Fili, please!” When Fili only pulled his hands back, out of Kili’s grasp, Kili inched closer, until he was practically on top of his brother. “Fili, please. Please, what can I do?” He whispered.

Fili finally looked up at him, tears running down his face. Then, before Kili could react, Fili reached out, yanking Kili down next to him, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Kili,” He sobbed. “I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know… I don’t…”

Kili turned himself as best he could, wrapping his arms around Fili’s waist. “Did he… did he hurt you?” He asked, unable to keep the warble out of his voice. But Fili shook his head, and Kili felt more lost than before. “Well, it’s alright then, isn’t it? After all, Bilbo promised, didn’t he? He said it’d be alright. Don’t cry, Fili, please. It’ll be alright, won’t it?”

But Fili just buried his face in Kili’s hair, and cried harder. Unsure of what else to do, Kili tightened his grip, holding on to his brother as hard as he could.

“It’ll be alright, Fee. It’ll be alright.”


	5. Burgling Statues

Thorin found himself with no rest that night. Despite his brave words to Bilbo, he couldn’t stop thinking of the boys. Couldn’t stop picturing his interactions with them, from the moment he’d first met them, to dinner, to the disastrous attempt at reassurance in Fili’s chambers, it would not stop playing through his head.

He wanted, more than anything, to convince himself it was because of the foreignness of it all. Prayed, to a God he hadn’t ever properly believed in, that he could shove it all back, back into the box he’d kept locked up tightly for sixteen years.

But he couldn’t.

Had he been that small, at Fili’s age? Had he looked that desperate, standing up against his father? That pitiful, that heart-broken, that…

He sat up, kicking the blankets off in a rage, fumbling around the floor for his boots. Pulling them on, he moved as quietly as he could to the door, praying not to wake Balin as he pulled it open.

The hallway was dark, of course; the serving girl had put the candles out hours ago. But Thorin had spent his youth roaming the halls at night, and he remembered the way well-enough to find himself downstairs, and outside with little trouble. The moon, nearly at its fullness, was more than bright enough to guide his feet onto the paths into the garden, and he made his way into the deeper parts almost without thought, past the fountains and statues that adorned the outer edges and into the middle parts.

When he found what he was looking for -a stone bench, intricately carved and patterned -he dropped himself onto it heavily, feeling far older than his years, exhaustion-fuelled numbness setting in, as the coldness of the bench leached into his bones.

He wasn’t sure, how long he sat there, staring up at the moon, carefully thinking nothing, before he heard the sound of soft footsteps, moving slowly towards him.

Years of instinct had Thorin ready, almost without thinking. He waited until the footsteps came closer -closer, a bit closer -before he lashed out, his fist going for the weak spot between the neck and the chest.

“Oomph! My nose!”

“Oh, hell,” Thorin cursed, staring down at Bilbo, who was clutching his hands around his nose. “Dammit, Bilbo, I’m sorry, I -”

“You what? Thought I was someone here to burgle the garden statues?” Bilbo demanded angrily, his voice muffled sounding.

“I… Well, I wasn’t... “ Thorin sighed, shoving the smaller man towards the bench. “Here, let me have a look at it then.” As gently as he could, he pulled Bilbo’s hands away from his face, and couldn’t help his grimace as he did.

“S’that bad then?” Bilbo asked, catching the look on his face.

“Well… Again, my apologies, Mr. Baggins, I -”

Bilbo waved one hand at him, the other going back to pinch at his nose as he tilted his head back. “No, no, don’t concern yourself with it; after all, not the first time a Durin has broken my nose. I’m sure it won’t be the last either. Shouldn’t have lost my temper over it, it’ll be alright, I’m sure.”

Thorin drew back, unable to keep the horrified look off his face. “Surely my father didn’t…”

“Hmm? Oh, no, no, no, Thorin. It’s just… Well, Fili’s rather skittish, as I’ve said, doesn’t like being touched,” Bilbo said with another handwave. “We had a rough go of it the first few months I lived here, and… well, the boy is rather strong for his age, all things considered.”

Thorin sighed, sitting down on the bench next to Bilbo, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You and your family have put up with much from the Durins, with little enough gratitude. But I do thank you for it.”

Bilbo ‘tutted’. “Nonsense. I couldn’t very well leave the boys here alone, with only Mrs. O’Brien. They needed a guardian who could understand them; any man would’ve done the same, any decent man.”

Thorin chuckled. “I think you’ve not seen much of the world, Mr. Baggins. Decent men are few and hard to find. Particularly here.”

Bilbo gave him a stern look. “I’ve told you, it’s Bilbo, if you please. I rather think that, after breaking my nose, the least you could do is call me as I ask.”

“Aye, Bilbo then. But the kindness you’ve done for my nephews cannot be understated, I assure you. Two young boys, used to being terribly mistreated? I shudder to think what would’ve happened had you not been here, and I won’t have you thinking your generosity has gone unnoticed.”

Bilbo blushed, and Thorin resisted the urge to laugh at the flustered look on the other man’s face.

“Oh, well… They’re good lads, Thorin, just going through a bit of a hard time. I daresay this little endeavor has been good for me as well as them. I’m a bachelor, after all, and getting up there in age; having something to do other than sit around looking at musty old books, and inaccurate maps has been quite good for me.”

“Ah. A bachelor then. I presumed that I just hadn’t met the esteemed ‘Mrs. Baggins’ yet,” Thorin said, leaning back in the chair, happy to follow the turn in conversation towards a happier direction. “You must be in your late twenties at the very least; have you had no serious offers yet?”

Bilbo waved his hand, almost absently. “Well, I’ve been quite busy here, since my father died. I was put as executor of Fili’s estates, to be held in trust by your father, until he came of age, and I still had all the boring, routine affairs of your father’s to deal with. Keeping up on all the paperwork, finances, bookkeeping, keeping affairs in order, and all that. Been rather too busy to worry about it, I suppose. Then after Lord Thrain died, I was the only left to care for the boys, so there just… wasn’t time.”

Thorin frowned a bit. “I was wondering about that, Bilbo; my sister didn’t mention her husband beyond saying she’d married, and then another a few years later saying he’d died. Did he have no family, no one to take care of her or the children after he passed? How did she and the children end up back at Erebor Manor? Was there no one to take over…” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Did he even have an estate? I’m ashamed to say I don’t even know his name,” He admitted.

Bilbo nodded. “He did, indeed. Outside of Birmingham; Lord Harold Hamersfeld of Treleggan. Unfortunately, he was an only child, and the only living family he still had was an aunt in Manchester. In light of those circumstances, your father petitioned the Crown to have the children brought here to be raised,” He added darkly. “When the Crown approved it, your sister had the choice of staying at Treleggan, or coming here with the boys. Obviously she knew better than to leave them alone here, so she followed them down. For all the good it did.”

“Did Frerin never step in? Never attempt to help? He was young, yes, but…” Thorin stopped, unsure of how to continue, unable to condemn his brother, when he himself had fled, leaving his siblings behind.

Bilbo shrugged. “You must remember, Thorin, when your sister first returned here, Fili hadn’t yet had his fourth birthday, and Kili less than a month old. Your brother was a mere boy of sixteen himself. Barely come into his majority. He tried his best, but… well, your father might’ve been mad in the head, but he never lacked for strength of body. And since he was given guardianship of the boys, he was in much the same position as your sister; there was little enough they could do, aside from trying to keep Lord Thrain’s attention on themselves as much as possible. But after the last event… Well, suffice to say, I cannot bring myself to blame Frerin for leaving, as much as it ill-affected the boys.”

Thorin stood abruptly. “I… I’m sorry, Mr… Bilbo. I think I must be getting to bed, I’m… very tired,” He said, suddenly desperate to be away from it all. “I apologize for my abruptness.”

He was startled beyond measure when he felt a hand grasp at his arm, only barely resisting the urge to yank it away as he stared down at Bilbo, who’d stood up next to him.

“Thorin, I… You mustn’t blame yourself.”

Thorin did yank his arm back at that, unable to stand the pity in Bilbo’s voice, feeling that hopeless rage building in his chest as he spoke.

“Oh, mustn’t I, though?” He scoffed. “If I had stayed -”

“You would’ve been dead, or imprisoned for patricide,” Bilbo said firmly, but gently. “You weren’t very different from Fili, as a child, Thorin. I remember when my mother would bring me over, to give Frerin someone to play with. I might not have known you well, but… If you had stayed, eventually, you would’ve grown big enough, and angry enough to fight back. And either you, or Thrain would’ve ended up dead.”

“And my family -my sister, my brother, my  _ nephews  _ -would’ve been safe,” Thorin spat out, unable to stand the patronizing look in the other man’s eye any longer. “I’ll take my leave then, Mr. Baggins. Good night.”

* * *

  
  


Kili woke before Fili.

It didn’t happen often; Kili knew his brother never slept well, hadn’t slept well probably since Kili had been born, but it did occasion that Kili would be up before him.

And he knew the rules; Fili had drilled them into his head since before he could properly remember, and he’d told Kili that -with the new Lord Durin arriving -they were to start following those rules again. When Kili had asked for how long, Fili had just given him that glare he was so good at, and said until he told Kili otherwise.

But the problem was, rules or not… Kili had to use the privy, and he was hungry. He’d gotten used to regular meal times again with Bilbo in charge, but Fili had dragged him away from the table before he’d done much more than eaten a single potato.

He cautiously tested his brother’s grip. Last night, they’d fallen asleep together in Kili’s bed, Fili crying himself to sleep, Kili trying to comfort him as best he could, and Kili had woke to find his brother still holding him tightly, even as he slumbered.

It appeared, however, that Fili was well and truly asleep; Kili managed to tug himself free without Fili even stirring. He grinned, quite pleased with himself as he tiptoed around the room, gathering up his boots and jacket, before leaving the room, as quiet as a fieldmouse.

As he snuck through the manor, he was surprised that the only people he saw were the servants; he made his way to the privy, and did his business, but there was still no sign of Bilbo, or his uncle anywhere as he made his way into the main quarters, and down the hallways towards the kitchen. But as he approached, he began to hear voices, and laughter.

“... he sat, and I’ll be damned if the cheeky bugger wasn’t clinging to his hair like he thought it was a tree! I tell you, Maggie, I’ve seen Thorin staring down men twice his size, crocodiles as big as trees, and it never slowed him down. But this damned koala on his head, and it was like the lad was struck dumb!”

He heard Maggie’s loud cackle. “Oh, I tell you, Master Balin, the boy always did love animals, ever since he was a wee thing,” She chortled, and Kili dared a peep around the doorway. He spotted his uncle’s friend -Balin, that was what Bilbo and Maggie had called him -and Maggie, sitting at the table, eating breakfast.

“Oh, but don’t I know it! Damn fool names at least a dozen of our head every year, takes them on as pets or some such! And his horse! Good God, but he takes better care of Bongo than he does himself! I swear, woman, if I hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve let the damn thing sleep in the house!”

Maggie started to speak, before she stopped, rather abruptly, looking straight at the door. Kili quickly pulled his head back, heart pounding fast in his chest, praying she hadn’t spotted him. But after a moment, he breathed a sigh of relief as Maggie began speaking again.

“Oh, Thorin’s always loved horses; from the first moment he saw them as a wee thing, barely walking, we could hardly keep him from the stables! It’s in the Durin bloodline; you should see Kili with his horse, Master Balin, it’s most impressive. Mouse, he calls it, although it’s a Shire stallion standing at almost 19 hands. Our horse trainer, Bofur, thought we were going to have to put the poor thing down after we bought him; he’d been terribly mistreated by his previous owner, and couldn’t stand no one to go near him, much less saddle him, the poor dear. But Kili spent eight months, teaching him to be around people again. Talking to him, brushing him down, sneaking him apples and strawberries when he thought I wouldn’t notice them missing.”

“And the boy rides him? A full-sized Shire?” Kili couldn’t help but be pleased by the surprised sound in Mr. Balin’s voice. “I know many a grown man who’d be hard-pressed to control a Shire stallion, much less one so ill-treated. He must be a great horseman indeed to accomplish such a thing.”

He peeked around the doorframe again, to see Maggie nodding. “Oh, he is indeed. Fili is a firm hand with them as well, but Kili took to horses like a duckling takes to water, Master Balin. He’s usually at the stables more than he’s in the house, either helping Bofur, or out riding himself.”

Mr. Balin stood, and Kili ducked back round the corner. “Well, perhaps I’ll make my way to the stables then. I’d be pleased to meet this ‘Bofur’, and see your stock; always loved horses myself. Perhaps I’ll catch the lad down there, and he can show me his Mouse.”

“Aye, I think that’s a sound idea, Master Balin, a right good one indeed. If anyone asks, I’ll let them know where you’ve gotten off to.”

“Thank you, Maggie, and thank you for an absolutely delightful breakfast; Thorin’s stories truly did you no justice.”

Kili pressed himself flat against the wall as Mr. Balin’s footsteps came closer. After a moment, the man passed him by, clearly not noticing him. He watched as the man made his way down the hall, before he finally started breathing again.

“Well, laddie, don’t sit out there and starve; you must be hungry as a horse, after missing dinner last night!” He heard Maggie call out. Grinning to himself, he ducked into the kitchen, taking up the seat Mr. Balin had left.

“Well now, what’ll we be having this morning, my dear? Sausage? Eggs? Perhaps a bit of toast as well?” When Kili nodded enthusiastically, Maggie chuckled. “Growing boy with a big appetite. Natural way of things, Master Kili, natural order and all that. Well, dig in, boy, it’s just you and me here; no cause to stand on ceremony.” As Kili began eating, she grabbed an apple from its place on the counter, and reached over to set it next to his plate. “There; when you’re done stuffing your gob, you can take that down to Mouse. I’m sure Mr. Bofur is having a hard time with him, what with you not going down yesterday.”

Kili frowned, grabbing the apple and stuffing it in his pocket, taking a quick glance towards the kitchen door, before looking back at Maggie, who waved her hand.

“Oh, I know, your brother didn’t feel right about it and all, but you mustn’t let Master Thorin being here disrupt your routine; Mouse will be lost without you, after all. Give Mr. Bofur all sorts of trouble. Maybe you should take your sausages with you, and head out to the stables before your brother wakes, hmm? Can’t be angry with you, if you’re not here,” She said, giving him a wink. “I’ll be sure to tell him where you’ve gone if he wakes before you get back.”

Kili gave her a grin as he stood, grabbing another sausage before he darted out of the kitchen.

Perhaps, if he hurried, he’d have time for a ride before Fili woke.


	6. Accusations False

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I hate this chapter, and I think it sucks. But if I don't post it and get it out, I never will, and this will fall by the way side when I get so frustrated that I never look at it again. So... here you go, I guess. First part is filler.

Balin was able to find the stables easy enough, a large, grand building, as large as the manor but with only one level. Even as he approached, he could see a few fine horses making their way around the paddock.

“Hello there! You must be Master Thorin’s guest!”

Balin turned away from the paddock, to see the owner of the voice. A rather thin man, wearing what had to be the ugliest hat Balin had ever seen, sitting in front of the doors to the stable, carving at a piece of wood.

“Ah, yes. Balin Fundin, at your service, sir. You must be Mr. Bofur, the stablemaster?” He asked pleasantly, reaching for the man’s hand.

“Oh, no sir, just Bofur, sir. Bofur Bafurson. A pleasure to meet you, to be sure, a pleasure, sir. T’was wondering when Master Thorin would be down, surprised he t’weren’t here already, to be honest, sir,” Bofur said with a chuckle. “Could never keep the man away from the horses, we couldn’t. You have a fancy for ‘em, sir?”

Balin chuckled. “I don’t claim to be the wisest man about them, but I know my way around them. And I must say, these are some fine beauties. A good variety, as well. I see at least one Thoroughbred out there, and that one looks to be Cleveland if I’m not mistaken.”

Bofur nodded, his face lighting up. “Indeed sir, indeed. Wise enough for my stables, at least, to be able to tell ‘em apart. Although that one’s not a pure Thoroughbred, but a mix twixt that and the Cleveland. S’master Fili’s horse, Stendhal. Bit temperamental, for my tastes, but Fili’s a good hand with him.”

Balin moved back towards the paddock, resting his arms lightly on the fence as he watched what he presumed to be a stableman lead a large black horse onto the grass. The horse stamped his feet angrily, although not so much as to be cause for concern, Balin noted, but more as if to show his displeasure over something.

“And who’s that?” He asked, nodding towards the horse.

Bofur came over next to him. “Why, that be my cousin, Bifur, sir. Bit touched in the head; accident when he was Master Fili’s age, but he’s good with the horses, and the work suits him well enough. Least whys, he never complains about it,” Bofur said with a chuckle.

Balin returned his smile. “Well, I’m sure he is, but I was referring to the horse, Master Bofur. That’s a beauty, and no mistake. He must be every bit of 19 hands, and that coloring; rare to see a black horse with the white mane and featherings.”

“Oh indeed, sir, indeed; that’s Mouse, Master Kili’s horse. Critter’s a tad bit upset, the wee lad hasn’t been down to see him in nearly three days now, and Mouse tends to take it personal-like if the lad don’t give him his full attention.”

Balin could feel his eyebrows rise. “ _ That’s _ the boy’s horse? Really?”

Bofur nodded pleasantly. “Indeed, sir, ‘tis his. Won’t let none else saddle him. Hells, damn thing don’t like none else near him ‘cepting Bifur, really. He’ll handle a bit of movin’ ‘round, if I need him to, but he makes sure I know how unhappy he is ‘bout it.”

Suddenly, the horse yanked hard at the lead, freeing himself from Bifur’s grasp as he reared back. The stablehand let go of the rope quick enough, and the horse took off at a gallop towards a section of the fence.

“Oh, now, Master Balin, sir, you’ll get to see a right treat, and a rare ‘nough sight. Watch closely now, don’t miss it,” Bofur said gleefully, and Balin chuckled to see the man rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Just watch, and see.”

Balin turned his attention back to the horse, just in time to see the small figure balancing on top of the paddock fence. He watched, a bit nervous, as the horse sped towards the figure, who could only be Kili, barely slowing as he neared the fence.

Almost as if they’d practiced it, the horse slowed as he curved, his flanks brushing against the fence, the boy leaping onto his back, scrabbling his way up the sides. The horse never stopped as the boy righted himself astride his back, taking off at a gallop around the paddock a few times, the boy grinning from ear to ear as they approached.

“Oi! Master Kili! Stalls to be mucked out, when he’s of a mind to let you down!” Bofur called out, giving the boy a cheeky grin in return. “Your brother too; Stendhal could use with a good rub down.”

Kili nodded, a note of impatience on his face, if Balin didn’t miss his guess, as he looked hard at Bofur, then at the gate, then at Bifur, and back at Bofur once more.

Bofur threw his hands up. “Are you wantin’ someone to actually open it this time, or just askin’ me not to tell your brother when you do it anyways?”

The boy’s grin grew near wide enough to split his face, and Balin found himself smiling in return, at the look of sheer, unadulterated pleasure in the boy’s face as he patted Mouse’s neck, then turned him towards the gate, getting the horse up to a run.

“Will he be able to clear it?” Balin asked, unable to keep the uncertainty out of his voice; after all, the gate was a good five foot, and Kili riding bareback wasn’t likely to make staying astride the horse any easier.

Bofur scoffed. “Course he will. Mouse could clear that in his sleep, if’n he had a mind to. And the boy’s well-learned in how to hold his seat. Just watch, Master Balin.”

Balin did, heart in his throat, as Mouse ran full bore at the gate, never slowing. Then, with almost no effort, the horse jumped the gate, coming down gracefully on the other side, Kili letting out a whoop of pleasure as they took off through the fields.

Balin couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, Mr. Bofur, I will say that’s probably the most impressive thing I’ve seen since I landed in Bristol. Well-done on the lad for that.”

Bofur chuckled himself as the two men made their way back towards the stables. “Master Kili was born to it, sir. Regular natural at it. T’weren’t no one taught him, he just knows it. Got an eye for it too; lad’s a good eye for pickin’ out the best o’ the stock.”

“And does he always ride bareback like that?”

Bofur shrugged. “Some days he do, and some days he don’t; dependin’ on his mood. But the lad’s as good out of the saddle as he is in, so none o’ us here say much one way or t’other. Now, then. If’n you can put the image o’ that fine display out your mind for a bit, I’ll show you some o’ the other fine catches we have here. Master Bilbo says you’ll be stayin’ ‘til spring, so you’ll be needin’ a good horse in the meantimes, if I don’t miss a guess.”

Balin patted the man on the back. “I’ll admit, it’ll be hard to compare to that, but let’s see what we can do, shall we?”

Bofur laughed uproariously at that, and the two made their way into the stables.

* * *

Thorin woke, groggily, feeling much the same as he usually did after a night of drinking with Dwalin. The pounding on his door had yanked him from his slumber, and he groaned at the sight of the sun shining in through his window.

“A moment!” He finally called out, when the pounding continued. “At least let me get my damned pants on at least.”

When he stomped his way over to the door, pulling back the latch, it swung open before he even had a proper chance to do it himself.

“Where is he?” Fili demanded, shoving past Thorin into the bedroom. “What’ve you done with him?”

Thorin blinked a few times as Fili darted around the room, looking under the bed, and in the wardrobe. “Yes, good morning to you too, nephew. I presume you’re looking for your brother?”

“I said where is he!” Fili seethed, seemingly content that Kili wasn’t hiding behind the curtains somewhere, and stomping up to Thorin. “Where’s Kili?”

“Devils if I know, boy,” Thorin grunted, the long night, and short rest leaving him grumpier than he knew he should be, but unable to help it. “As you clearly noticed, my door was locked, and I just awoke at your so-gracious insistence.”

“You think it’s funny?” Fili bellowed, placing both hands on Thorin’s chest, and shoving. In another situation, Thorin might’ve been impressed; while he kept his feet, it was a difficult thing. The boy clearly had more muscles hiding underneath his clothes than Thorin would’ve presumed, given his size.

But in his present situation, grouchy, tired, and suddenly irrationally irritated, he had to strongly fight back the urge to push the boy in return. As it were, he settled for a glower, folding his arms across his chest.

“I understand you’re upset, so I will give you this one warning, boy: lay your hands on me in anger again, and I’ll give you cause to regret it. I don’t know where your brother is; I’ve not seen him since you dragged him away from dinner last night.”

“Liar!”

Thorin barely had time to sidestep Fili’s wild charge at him, feeling the breeze as the boy stumbled past him in his rage.

“Fili, control yourself! Clearly the boy isn’t here!” Thorin barked, taking a few steps back as Fili spun, uncontrollable hatred in his eyes.

“What’ve you done with him?!”

“Christ and Judas!” Thorin swore, as Fili lunged again. This time, he knew there was no stepping out of the way, as he’d foolishly placed himself between the edge of the bed, and the wardrobe. So he did the only thing he could think of, grabbing the boy round the shoulders, spinning him quickly, and locking his arms up behind his head. “Balin! Bilbo! Goddammit, boy! Bilbo!”

“What in the blazes is goi- Fili, what are you -” Bilbo had charged into the room, hair still mussed from sleep, before stopping, mouth gaping as he observed Thorin struggling to keep Fili still.

“Don’t just stand there, man, help me!” Thorin shouted, before cursing as Fili kicked him in the shin, hard enough that Thorin knew the bruise would be spectacular. “The boy’s lost his damned mind!”

Bilbo stood for a moment longer, before diving forward, towards a still screaming and kicking Fili, trying to get closer, without being in kicking range.

“Fili! Fili, whatever are you doing?!”

“Let me go! I’ll kill you, you bastard, get your hands off me!”

“Fili! Fili, it’s me! It’s Bilbo! God’s sake, Fili, get control of yourself!” Bilbo exclaimed, trying to grab his legs. “You must calm down!”

“Let go of me! Get off! Get off me, you arsehole! Get off!”

Bilbo gave Thorin a hopeless look, one that Thorin returned. He knew he couldn’t hold his grip much longer; the lad was definitely stronger than Thorin would’ve credited him for, and no matter which way the situation ended, Thorin would be covered in bruises before it was done.

“Where the hell is the younger one?” Thorin bit out, struggling to make himself heard over Fili’s screaming.

Bilbo shrugged. “I’ve no idea! They’re usually not to be separated!”

“I can’t hold him much longer!”

“I don’t know why you’re holding him in the first place!”

“He came at me! I was sleeping when he barged in!” Thorin shouted back, feeling that old familiar rage building again. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but shake the boy in his grip, back and forth, like a dog shaking a rat. “Will you stop it, boy!?”

Immediately, the boy froze, his screams choking off as he went limp in Thorin’s arms. So Thorin released his grip, only to curse again as Fili fell to the floor, limp as a fish.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” He dropped to the boy’s side, as did Bilbo. “I didn’t shake him that hard, Bilbo; is he alright?”

“Hush, Thorin,” Bilbo said, almost absently, as he tapped at Fili’s face. “Exhaustion, or a fit, but the boy is unharmed. Or at least… he’s no worse off than he was before all this.”

Thorin fell onto his arse, relief flooding through him, despite the severity of the situation. “Oh, thank Christ. Thank Christ.” He breathed a sigh of relief, then another, then forced himself back to his feet. “Alright, get out of the way; let me get him to his room. See if you can find Maggie’s girl, set her to water and find the damned little one! Wherever he’s gotten off to, that’s the cause of all of this,” Thorin grunted out, getting his arms underneath the boy, and picking him up. “He’s a damn sight heavier than he looks, at least; he’s not been underfed.”

Bilbo paused in the doorway, a shadowed look on his face. “Then it’s a marked improvement over last year then. I’ll find Josie and send her with the water. I’m sure Bofur will know where Kili’s gotten off to.”

Thorin sighed, maneuvering his way round the doorframe, and into the hall, struggling to bear the weight of it as he trudged along, trying to keep any part of the boy’s limp body from hitting the walls or tables. Down the hallways, and into the main family quarters, with the boy never stirring, not even when he lay him down on the bed.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. It seemed wrong, to just leave the boy laying there senseless on his bed, all alone, but Thorin knew that if Fili woke to find Thorin sitting by his bedside, they’d most likely have a repeat of the disaster.

Sighing, he moved over to the door, standing just outside the frame, staring into the room.

Wishing he’d never left Australia.


	7. Anger Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember kiddies, comments and kudos are food for the muse. :)

After Josie had arrived to care of Fili, Thorin made as quick a retreat as he could, practically fleeing the house in his haste to be… well, anywhere else. He had glanced behind him, taking in the large manor, thinking about Fili up in his room, when he felt something collide with him. When he turned around, he saw Kili, sprawled on the pathway, staring up at him.

“Judas, but I can do nothing right today,” He swore, offering the boy a hand up. When Kili just stared at it, almost blankly, Thorin sighed in agitation. “I mean you no harm, boy, but your brother’s been looking for you. He was frantic this morning, attacked me in my rooms, thinking I was holding you captive.”

Almost before he’d finished speaking, Kili had swatted his hand aside, scrambling past him in a crawl, and pulling himself to his feet as he moved. He had disappeared inside the house, gone before Thorin could even truly register what had happened.

“Shit! God damn it all!” He screamed, kicking at the loose rocks in his anger.

“Thorin? What’s wrong?”

Thorin spun around angrily, coming face to face with Balin, who drew back a bit in the face of his anger.

“It’s this place!” Thorin bit out, lowering his volume, if not his tone. “This cursed, wretched place! Nothing good has ever happened here, and nothing will! I should’ve told Bilbo to send the boys to me, to Australia! I swear, if it wasn’t made of stone, I would burn it to the ground, and have not a single regret!”

“Jesus, laddie, what happened?” Balin demanded, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Take a breath, calm yourself, and tell me what happened.”

Thorin yanked himself free, unable to stand his touch. “I’ve scared one boy into a fit, the other will scarce even look at me! In the matter of an hour, I’ve had to restrain one from attacking me, and knocked the other flat on his arse! That’s what’s happened, Balin! I’ve made everything worse; just like this place,” He finished, his voice quieting, as all the anger left him, leaving his knees weak. He only barely managed to sit on one of the stone benches, avoiding falling over by sheer force of will alone. “I… I don’t know… how to fix this, Balin. They think that I’m like my father, and that… It makes me angry, Balin, so damned angry. I just want to shake them, and yell that I’m not like him, but… the fact that that is all I can think to do proves me wrong, I suppose.”

Balin sighed as he sat next to him. “Thorin… Do you remember our first adventure together? When Dwalin and I were protecting the merchant carrying wool?”

Thorin scoffed. “You mean when I forced myself along, not taking ‘no’ for an answer?”

Balin chuckled. “Aye, laddie, that’s the one. Neither Dwalin or myself wanted you along. Were dead set against it.”

“But then the third night, you invited me to share your fire anyways. And I’ve been a plague in your hair ever since,” Thorin said, chuckling a little himself, despite his mood.

“Aye. Did you ever wonder, Oakenshield, why, after three days of telling you to shove off, I finally invited you to join us? Hmm?”

“I presumed you got tired of me skulking.”

“No, Thorin, that wasn’t it. Nay an hour before, I saw you. Huddle up against the rain, looking as if you hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks. I’d seen you, staring at our food; hell, I’d even warned Dwalin that you were like as not to steal what you could if given half an opportunity. But when I saw you… That little ledge you’d hidden yourself under, to get out of the rain, was barely big enough for you. But you’d squeezed that old nag of your under there with you, and the blanket you’d given her was better than the one you used. I sat there for a few minutes, wondering why on earth you’d pulled her under there with you. Do you remember, what you did then, Thorin?”

“Froze my damn arse off,” Thorin said with an eye roll. “Old Mindy didn’t throw near enough heat, even with both of us having a blanket.

“Aye, I imagine she didn’t, nag as old as that. But what changed everything, laddie… was the apple.”

Thorin frowned. “The apple? What about it? I’d picked it up off the side of the road somewhere.”

“Indeed. But I watched you, in that moment, Thorin, with your little half-rotten apple. There you sat, looking like a half-starved, half-drowned gutter rat, looking at that apple like it was the most precious thing in the world at that moment. Like the greatest feast a man could be given.

“But then… Your horse reached for it, whinnying softly. And you, Thorin… Damned if you didn’t cut off a small slice for yourself, and give the rest to Mindy.”

“She hadn’t eaten either, except grass, and that was few and far between on those roads,” Thorin said dismissively.

“But she’d eaten that grass, Thorin, where she could find it.  _ You  _ were hungry, and still you shared the only food you had with your horse,” Balin said softly. “You were lost, alone, hungry, and cold, yet the little you had… you shared with with a poor mixed-breed nag that had long since seen better days.”

“She was a good horse. Only friend I had, back then. Picked her up with my last shilling,” Thorin said, his voice fond as he remembered.

“That is why I invited you to share our fire, Thorin. Any man who could show that sort of kindness to a beast that’d seen better days, when he himself was starving, was a man I wanted to know better.

“Are you frustrated with the lads? Of course you are, Thorin; any man would be. Even the greatest fathers grow frustrated with their bairns. But you came here, Thorin, traveled halfway round the world to see them taken care of, two boys you’d never even met. Since you’ve arrived, they’ve returned that with nothing but suspicion and fear, and yet you’re still trying. You could’ve left them in Bilbo’s care, and let him attend to matters, but you didn’t,” Balin said firmly. “Because you’re a good man, Thorin Oakenshield. A good man, with a kind heart, who always cares for others around him before thinking of himself. Give the lads time, Thorin, and they’ll see that as well.”

* * *

Kili ran up the stairs, feeling the burn in his legs as he took them as fast as he could, scrambling round the corners of the hallway. He ignored the clanging of the table he crashed into, barely even slowing until he reached Fili’s doorway, and Bilbo physically stopped him.

“Kili -Kili!”

He stopped trying to squirm around Bilbo, looking up at the man angrily.

“Kili, your brother is fine. But he’s had a bit of an upset, and you must be gentle wi -Kili!”

Kili had darted around him, and was on the bed beside his brother, only barely missing Josie, who sat in the chair next to the bed. But she only gave him a smile, patting his hand, before she stood, giving him a slight bow of the head. She then grabbed Bilbo by the arm, who was still sputtering and going on about… something, Kili wasn’t really listening, and then pulled him out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Fili?” He whispered, once he was sure no one was listening in. “Fili? Fee?”

Fili groaned, rolling his head a bit, before his eyes cracked open. “Kili?”

“It’s me, Fili. Are you alright? What happened? Are you hurt?” Immediately, Kili yanked the blankets back, looking for blood or bruises.

Fili swore, pulling the blankets back up. “M’fine, brother. Nothing hurt but my pride,” He said quietly. “Where were you? I… I woke up, and you were gone. The door was unlocked, and you…”

Kili threw himself down by Fili’s side, cuddling up close as Fili wrapped his arms around him tightly. “I’m sorry, Fili; I went for a ride. Maggie said she’d tell you where I was, so I thought… I didn’t mean to make you worry, or make Thorin angry, I just… Mouse missed me,” He said, struggling to keep from crying as he snuggled in closer, pressing his face into Fili’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make everyone upset. M’sorry, Fili, please don’t be angry.”

Fili’s grip tightened. “I’m not angry, Kili. I was just… I thought that Thorin had... “ He stopped, sighing. “There’s nothing to be angry about. But… if you’re going to go out, you have to tell me. You can’t just wander off, Kili. We don’t… I don’t know Thorin. I don’t know what he wants. He could be just like Lord Durin, you understand?”

Kili couldn’t help the shudder that passed through him, and Fili sighed again. A moment later, Kili felt the blankets being pulled out from underneath him, and then Fili wrapped him up tight next to him.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again, Kili. I’ll keep you safe. I promise, alright? I’ll keep you safe.”

Kili snuggled closer, feeling Fili’s fingers carding through his hair gently.

“I know you will, Fili. It’ll all be alright.”

* * *

“Josie, I don’t think -”

“He’ll take care of him, Master Bilbo,” Josie said firmly, and Bilbo could see Maggie in those eyes, daring him to challenge her. “Better than you or I could. Now you leave them alone, and go get yourself some breakfast; I’m sure Granny still has a plate left for you in the kitchen.”

“But… If Fili needs anything -”

“Kili will get it. But neither one of them will rest easy if you’re sitting on top of them, watching them. Off with you.”

Bilbo ‘tutted’ as she gently, but firmly, shoved him out of the door to the family quarters, closing the door behind her. “Well, I suppose I’ll just… Go and find somewhere to make myself useful then.”

“Aye, I’m sure you have plenty of paperwork and such to do, Master Bilbo. Good morning.”

And with that, Josie floated by him, humming softly as she moved towards the guest rooms, presumably to tidy up Thorin and Balin’s rooms.

Bilbo scoffed quietly, and made his way downstairs. Through the windows, he could see Thorin and Balin sitting, talking quietly, and he decided it best not to bother them. Thorin still looked upset -understandably so -and Bilbo hoped that Balin could comfort him better than Bilbo could; the disastrous interaction in the gardens last night had probably cooled any friendship that Bilbo had worked for.

He sighed as he entered his office, just off from Lord Durin’s study, flopping down rather ungraciously at his desk, rubbing at his temples.

He hadn’t really ‘known’ Thorin, back before he left for the colonies; Thorin had been four years older, which -at a young age -seems like a very large difference indeed. Bilbo had, however, known Frerin rather well; Bilbo’s mother would bring Bilbo to the house whenever Lord Thrain was absent, and the two had been good playmates. While Thorin had usually been around, he rarely played with the two younger boys, preferring to go riding, or -as Bilbo had accidentally discovered one day -fall asleep in the gardens.

That was when Frerin had told him about his and Thorin’s father. Bilbo had been curious, both as to the ‘how’ and ‘why’ someone would fall asleep outside on stone bench in the middle of the day, and Frerin had explained.

Right up until Frerin had disappeared, he’d always talked of Thorin as his savior. The younger brother had never regretted the elder leaving, and had, on more than one occasion, told Bilbo he was glad Thorin had left. That he hoped his older brother way happy, away from their father, and creating a new life for himself.

When Bilbo had taken up his father’s spot as solicitor for Lord Thrain, he’d regretted Thorin’s leaving, more than once. When Frerin would come to Bilbo’s office, late at night, blood dripping from a split lip, or eye swollen shut, Bilbo had regretted it. Had prayed for Thorin to come back, and put an end to the madness.

A regret that had only grown deeper when Dis and the boys had arrived, and Bilbo realized that Thrain had no qualms about treating his grandchildren as awfully as he’d treated his children. The longer time went on, the angrier Bilbo had become at his position, unable to do much more than patch injuries up as best he was able, and offer what little comfort he could.

More than once, Bilbo had considered leaving; the hopelessness of the situation, the outrage at being unable to do anything about it, had driven him to pack his belongings more than once. But by the time he’d reach his door, Fili and Kili’s faces would appear in his mind, battered, covered in cuts and bruises, looking so frightened as to drive Bilbo to tears.

And he’d set his bag down, and prepare himself for another day at Erebor.

Another day of a hell he couldn’t leave.


	8. The Travel Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, another short chapter, but again... it seemed like a good spot to end it. Thank you to those of you who have left kudos, and a special thanks to those of you who have commented. :)

Fili woke slowly, the comforting heat of his little brother by his side a familiar -and welcome -sensation. He scooched a little bit closer, smiling to himself as Kili burrowed further into the blankets, and against Fili’s side, murmuring quietly. His small fingers were entwined in Fili’s hair, not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough that Fili knew, if he tried to pull away, Kili would wake.

He knew that there would be hell to pay for his actions earlier. The question was, would it be from Bilbo, or Thorin?

Bilbo was, of course, a known entity; the punishment would be something such as losing his riding privileges, writing lines, or helping Maggie in the kitchens. Perhaps, if he was angry enough, helping the servants clean the house for a few days. Benign, all things considered, and nothing Fili would be hard-pressed to argue against.

Thorin however… Thorin was unknown; he’d told Fili that he had no intention of harming him, and -as it turned out -he was innocent of the crimes Fili’d accused him of that morning, but Fili still couldn’t help but ponder.

Lord Durin had been full of tales of his eldest son. Tales of how he was an abomination, a monster, rowdy and destructive. Fili knew, obviously, just how ‘trust-worthy’ Lord Durin had been, but Fili had heard rumors from the townsfolk; even the ‘friendly’ tales he’d heard from Bofur and Bombur had usually involved him in some sort of trouble, typically brawling.

And his mother had never spoken of him; the few times she’d even mentioned her brother, it was little more than ‘that was Thorin’s’ when one of the boys would find some toy or another in the attic, or when Fili had moved into Thorin’s old room.

Uncle Frerin had spoke of him a bit more, but mostly to Bilbo, never where Fili could actively overhear. It was usually whispers in Bilbo’s office, when Fili would sneak about the house, unable to sleep, and he’d overhear the two adults talking. But it’d been so long ago, and Fili had been so preoccupied with other things, he could scarce even remember what they’d said about him.

Oh, Bilbo had told them, until their ears bled, about Thorin, when he’d first written to the man to tell him about Lord Durin’s passing. How he was a ‘good and honorable’ man, but Fili was smart enough to know that Thorin had been gone for longer than Fili had been alive, since before his mother had married. More than enough time for Bilbo to forget things, or even for Thorin to change, living in the lawless colonies.

There was, of course, what Fili himself had learned: that there were only two types of Durin men. Those like Kili, and Uncle Frerin, soft-hearted and gentle, always looking to the betterment of others… and those like Fili and Lord Durin: angry, violent beasts, bearable at times, but unfit to be a part of society mostly.

Obviously Thorin wasn’t like Kili and Uncle Frerin; that much had been obvious from the first moment Fili had laid eyes on him, when he’d walked into Erebor Manor as if he had never left it so many years ago. The perpetual frown, the way he held himself, even the way he walked… it all screamed of a barely contained rage, lying just below the surface of the regal demeanor.

Of course, that didn’t mean - _necessarily_ \- that Thorin would hurt Fili or Kili; Fili knew he himself was constantly struggling with his temper, trying to keep it in check. Trying to be a better man than their grandfather, to be someone his mother wouldn’t be ashamed of. But Fili was honest enough with himself to admit, that he failed more often than not, and there were days when he thanked a God he hadn’t believed in for eight years that his mother was dead. That, at the very least, she wasn’t alive to see him shame her so.

“Fili? S’wrong?”

Kili’s mumbled, slurred words pulled Fili from his dark thoughts, and he glanced down at his baby brother. Kili’s eyes were barely open, his long dark hair covering most of his face, as he stared up at Fili.

“Nothing, Kili. Go back to sleep,” Fili said soothingly, gently moving the hair out of Kili’s eyes.

“Sing for me?”

Fili sighed, reaching one arm up to tuck underneath his head as Kili gave him a sleepy, yet insistent stare as he laid his head on Fili’s chest.

“Alright. Alright, how about Mother’s ‘Traveling Song’?” At Kili’s sleepy nod, Fili chuckled. “Alright then. Upon the hearth, the fire is red; beneath the roof there is a bed. But not yet weary are our feet; still round the corner we may meet…”

As he sang softly, he couldn’t help but think of the last time his mother had sang the same song to the two of them. Kili had been young, only just mastering how to run without constantly falling over. It’d been shortly before Uncle Frerin had disappeared, while traveling to London to visit one of Mother’s friends. It’d been the last trip they’d taken; after Uncle Frerin’s disappearance, Lord Durin had decreed that none of the family travel anywhere that they couldn’t return before nightfall.

But Fili remembered the song regardless; the first night, after their mother had died, when Lord Durin had thrown Kili into Fili’s room, still sobbing hysterically, Fili had gathered him up, as best he could. He’d ignored his own cuts and bruises, the aching muscles from smashing against the door to try and get to his brother, and held Kili tight, singing the only thing he could remember.

He slowed his singing, quieting as he glanced down to see Kili smiling in his sleep.

Fili knew he wasn’t a good person. But at least he could protect his brother.

And that was all that really mattered at the end.

* * *

Balin knocked quietly on the door to Bilbo’s office, waiting for the quiet ‘come in’ before opening it.

“Ah, Mr… I’m sorry, Balin,” The wee man said, standing up behind the desk. “What can I do for you?”

Balin motioned towards the chair, and when Bilbo nodded, he sat down. “Well… About this morning.”

Bilbo waved his hand as he too sat. “I understand completely, it wasn’t Thorin’s fault; he handled a terrible situation as best he could. I hope he doesn’t feel any guilt over it.”

“Well, it’s Thorin, so of course he will. But that isn’t why I came. I was thinking… well, perhaps part of the problem is, everyone is cooped up here at the manor. Perhaps we could take a small journey somewhere? Even if we just take the horses for a bit of a ride; Thorin says there’s a few sights nearby, including something he called Stonehenge? I thought that, perhaps it would do us all some good to interact together out in the open, out of such tight spaces.”

Bilbo frowned. “That’s a good two hour ride. We’d have to plan something to take with us for lunch, at least, possibly dinner as well.”

Balin nodded pleasantly. “Indeed we would. Which is why I already spoke to Mrs. O’Brien, she said she can have something ready in less than an hour. Your stablemaster, Bofur, said he can have the horses ready and prepared in about the same time. If we leave in an hour, we could be back by six or seven, depending on how long we look around.” He paused, seeing the doubtful look on Bilbo’s face. “Mr. Baggins -Bilbo - I know you care for the boys, and are trying to look out for their best interests. But… Well, I know Thorin well; keeping him cooped up here is putting him on edge, as much as it is the boys. I’ve talked to Bofur, and he says they both enjoy riding, and love horses; so does Thorin. It’s something they have in common, something they could potentially bond over, even beyond the good it will do everyone to get out for a little while.”

Bilbo leaned back in his chair, clearly considering. “I… Well, I have paperwork here to do; perhaps, if you’ve already made Mr. Bafurson’s acquaintance, he could go with you as a guide?” He suggested slowly.

Balin hadn’t wanted to suggest it, unsure of how Bilbo would take such a thing, but he agreed whole-heartedly. If Thorin and the boys were to -eventually -live together, with Thorin as their guardian, they’d have to get used to the idea that Bilbo wouldn’t always be there as a buffer.

“Of course!” He said, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. “Why, just this morning, Bofur was saying he hasn’t seen Fili since before we arrived, I’m sure he’d enjoy taking a ride.”

Bilbo took a deep breath. “Well, then I shall leave you to arrange matters. You’ll let me know when you return?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, Balin?”

Balin stopped, just inside the door. “Yes?”

“You should probably send Josie to get the boys. Just my opinion.”

“An excellent idea. Thank you.”


	9. Horses and Stones

“Oi, Thorin, ya ol’ bastard!”

Thorin laughed as Bofur gave him a hug, returning the gesture with one of his own. “Hello, Bofur. Still have the hat, I see.”

Bofur pulled away, giving him a mock-indignant stare. “And why wouldn’t I? ‘Tis a beautiful thing, this hat! Not all o’ us can have hair like yours, have to do what we can to make up for it.”

Thorin smiled. “It’s good to see you, Bofur.”

“Course it is! Now, c’mon. Come see the beauty I picked out for you. Come on, come on,” Bofur said impatiently, motioning for Thorin to follow him inside the stables.

Thorin stopped, however, just inside the large doors, spotting Fili saddling a palomino horse. Fili returned his stare, holding his gaze for just a moment, before giving him what appeared to Thorin as a begrudging nod. Thorin nodded in return, then followed Bofur further into the stables.

“I remember you like ‘em with a bit o’ spirit, Thorin, so I picked this one out, special for you,” Bofur said, coming to a stop in front of a tethered horse. “Molly is a ThoroughDale; well-mannered, an’ built to last, she is.”

Thorin glanced the horse over appraisingly. “I can see that. Gorgeous. How are you, Bifur?” He asked gently, staring at the other man.

Bifur grinned as he adjusted the last strap on Molly, and began speaking, although what he said, Thorin couldn’t know, then gave Thorin a rough slap on the back.

“That’s good, Bifur. I’m glad things are going well,” Thorin said. “Alright, well then. I suppose I’ll take her outside, round the paddock a few times until everyone else is ready.”

“Everyone else is waiting, Uncle,” Fili called out, as he climbed into his horse. “Bofur’s horse is saddled and waiting out front.”

Thorin only kept his mouth from dropping through sheer, monumental effort, staring at Fili in disbelief for a moment. The lad had actually spoken to him. Called him Uncle. Fili stared back, his gaze even, as if daring Thorin to mention it.

“Uh… Of course, Fili. Well, then I apologize for delaying us,” He said, trying to keep his voice level, as he gently nudged the horse forward. “Come on then, Molly; let’s not keep the others waiting.”

The horse whinnied a bit, throwing her head once, before she followed Fili and his horse out. He spotted Balin, already mounted and next to what must have been Bofur’s horse, a small basket strapped down behind him; Fili reined his horse next to the little party, and Thorin frowned.

“Where’s Kili?”

Bofur scoffed as he got into the saddle. “Probably halfway there, knowin’ him an’ Mouse; I imagine we’ll run into him sooner than later. Well then, boys and gents, let’s be off.”

Bofur took the lead, Balin falling in behind him, leaving Thorin behind Fili. But with the trail being as wide as it was, Thorin nudged Molly forward a bit, until he was next to the lad.

“That’s a beautiful horse, Fili; a Cleveland Thoroughbred, if I’m not mistaken.”

Fili glanced up at Thorin, as he rubbed the horse’s neck. “Aye. His name is Stendhal. Trained him myself.”

“Indeed. I noticed you saddled him yourself, rather than have Bofur do it; you seem to know your way around them fairly well,” Thorin said approvingly.

“Stendhal’s my horse, and I care for him. He’s been a good friend, haven’t you?”

Thorin couldn’t hide his grin, as Fili stared proudly at Stendhal. “I find horses are often times better friends than people. I have a stallion, back in Australia, named Bongo. Thoroughbred Draught, stands almost 18 hands. Beautiful bay, black mane.” Fili opened his mouth, as if to say something, then snapped it shut again. Thorin frowned. “What is it, lad?”

The boy hesitated a moment, before giving him a side-eyed look. “I… don’t know much about Australian horses; I’ve read about the Brumbies, so I’d assumed…” His voice trailed off.

Thorin smiled. “Well, as far as we know, there are no ‘native’ horses to Australia; Brumbies are simply escaped horses that have gone feral. If a person tells you he has a ‘pure-bred Brumby’, he’s either an idiot, or a cheat; typically, most ‘Brumbies’ are Thoroughbreds or Draughts that escaped their owners, and found their way to each other. I actually have a mob of them on the northern edge of my ranch.”

“Really? How many?”

Thorin shrugged, hiding his amused look at the boy’s eagerness. “They’re wild horses, Fili; they’re not mine, anymore than I could consider a kangaroo ‘mine’. I let them wander and graze, and I try to keep the poachers from taking them as much as I can. But there must be at least a few dozen at least. They stay away from my cattle, and keep to themselves mostly. Although I have acquired a few of them; I’ve got two that were hurt by poachers trying to ‘domesticate’ them, and another who found herself on the wrong side of my cattle.”

Fili frowned. “The wrong side of your cattle?” He asked, his voice dubious. “I can’t see a cow hurting a horse.”

“You’d be surprised, lad; I have almost twenty-five hundred cattle, and cattle do not take kindly to invaders. Why, Balin, Dwalin, and I have had to round up stampedes caused by snakes, or watch them crush a koala to death because it spooked them wrong. But the horse -Myrtle -was still a foal. I don’t know if she was separated from the band, or if she wandered off, but she snuck into the East Pen, where I keep the new mothers. Luckily for her, I was tending to a sick calf; as it stands, they tore off half her ear, and a good chunk of her flank before I chased them off.”

“And you kept her? Can’t imagine she’ll be good for riding; you plan to breed her?”

Thorin shook his head. “No, her back flank is too weak, even before the cattle injured her. But it wasn’t her fault she got lost; as long as it's not natural causes, if I find one of the Brumbies injured, I patch them up, and let them on their way. Most leave, but some -like Myrtle -stay around.”

“What do you do if it’s ‘natural causes’?” Fili asked, giving him the side-eyed stare again.

“Well… They’re wild, Fili; it might sound cruel, but if I helped every wild horse, they wouldn’t be wild anymore, would they? They need to know to take care of themselves, to defend themselves. I find that more people harm creatures by trying to help, than through malice. When you treat a wild animal like a pet -one that you have no intention of keeping -it comes to think of humans as friends. It forgets how to feed itself, how to defend itself from predators, looking for humans to keep it alive. By the very act of being kind, we often are more cruel than if we had done the harm ourselves. I’ll help them if humans were the cause of their woes, but if I find one who’d fallen, or tripped, and broken its leg? Then I do nothing; nature will do as it pleases, and fighting against nature is a battle one is sure to lose.”

Fili nodded, almost absently. “That makes sense, I suppose. It seems cruel, but you’re only allowing nature to take its course.”

“Just so.” Thorin frowned, glancing around the trail, spotting Bofur and Balin up ahead. “Should we be worried that we’ve seen no sign of your brother?”

Fili scoffed, and Thorin was surprised at how young it made him sound, the gesture such a normal one as to be abnormal on the lad.

“I wouldn’t be; Kili’s safer on Mouse than he is anywhere else. But if you’re concerned… Kili!”

Thorin started a bit, surprised at how loud Fili’s voice was as he bellowed, sending birds scattering through the fields.

However, a few minutes later, Kili came barreling out of the treeline, riding one of the finest horses Thorin had ever seen. Perhaps, even more unusual, was the large, face-encompassing grin the boy wore; his hair was a tangled, natty mess, stigs and leaves sticking out in every direction as he rode towards them.

“Judas, that’s his Mouse?” Thorin muttered under his breath as Kili approached.

Fili nodded proudly. “Indeed; Lord Durin told everyone he’d have to be put down; even Bofur believed it. But Kili worked with him for months, got him used to the saddle again, treated him kindly, and now Mouse won’t let anyone but Kili ride him.”

* * *

Kili pulled Mouse up short, coming to a slow walk as he approached Fili and Thorin. He gave Fili a questioning look -although, through great effort, he kept from glaring -curious as to why his brother had called him back.

Fili rolled his eyes. “Thorin was wondering where you’d gotten off to. Stay in eye sight, yeah?”

Kili couldn’t help the glance he threw at Mr. Balin and Bofur ahead of them, then back at Fili forlornly. If he had to wait for the others, it’d take them hours to reach the stone circle. Not to mention, he and Mouse both were like to die of boredom, if they had to walk along at such a snail’s pace.

But it was Thorin, who spoke, rather than Fili.

“I’ve no problem with the boy riding ahead, Fili,” Their uncle said agreeably. “As long as he knows the way, and doesn’t get himself lost. I can’t imagine anyone troubling a horse like that overly much.”

Kili nodded, excitement coursing through him, unable to keep the grin from his face as he turned Mouse back towards the front of their little group. 

“Oi, don’t you be goin’ far, Master Kili!” Bofur said, as Kili made to ride past them. “We’ll be stoppin’ for lunch soon, an’ I’ve got no intentions o’ waitin’ for you to eat it, you hear?”

Kili frowned at that, stealing a glance at the basket on Balin’s horse; he was feeling rather hungry. And Mouse was probably hungry, after their long ride. Tired too, most likely.

Bofur chuckled. “You want to eat now then, boyo?” When Kili nodded, he turned back towards Fili and Thorin. “Alright, the wee one decrees it’s time to eat. C’mon then. Best do it ‘fore we get too far into the trees.”


	10. Situation Dire

Thorin couldn’t help but stare at ‘Mouse’ as the others began setting out the food.

He was absolutely stunning; even after his third complete look-over, he could find no obvious faults or flaws in the beast. Of course, there was the apparent behavioral issues, which Bofur had mentioned while they travelled to their lunch sight, but it wasn’t uncommon for a mistreated horse to be incredibly temperamental. Indeed, it was more unexpected that Kili had been able to retrain the horse, to counteract the damage done by his previous owner.

“Oakenshield! Do you expect us to plate it up and serve it to you as well?”

Thorin turned, rolling his eyes at Balin. “I’m sorry you wouldn’t appreciate a fine horse if it kicked you in the arse,” He said, moderating his words with a smile as he sat down. “Bofur, does he have a pedigree?” He asked, grabbing at one of the sandwiches Maggie had sent along with them.

Bofur shook his head. “Not that I was made known of; Lord Durin won him in a bet of some sort or ‘nother. Was he angry when he realized he wouldn’t be able to ride him. If it hadn’t been for Kili workin’ with him, wouldn’t a had a choice; would’ve had to got rid of him.”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t be surprised if a horse like that came from fine stock; I can’t see a single issue of concern. He’d make an excellent stud.”

He glanced over, and saw Kili giving Fili a questioning look. Fili leaned over, and whispered something in his ear, and immediately the smaller boy stood up, his face panicked as he shook his head, almost desperate looking.

“I… if you don’t wish it, boy, nobody will force it,” Thorin said, unable to keep the confusion from his voice. “I simply meant, a horse like that, people would pay well to have foals with him. But he’s your horse, lad; no one will touch him without your say-so of course.”

Kili glared at him suspiciously for a moment, before he sat down, apparently placated by Thorin’s words, although he still didn’t look happy about it. Fili set his hand comfortingly on his shoulder, leaning over again to whisper in his ear again, and Kili set his head on Fili’s arm after a moment.

“Well, we’ve done rather well for time, boys and gents. If we continue as we are, we should make it within half of an hour. Maybe forty-five minutes at most,” Bofur said into the awkward silence that followed. “Kili set a hard pace, but it will do us well for sight-seeing.”

“Ah, yes, what exactly is it we’re seeing again? Bilbo called it ‘StoneHenge’, but I’m afraid that doesn’t really tell me much,” Balin said curiously. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

“It’s -” Both Thorin and Fili began speaking at the same time, and stopped at the same time, looking at each other.

Thorin chuckled. “If you’d like to tell him, I’m sure you’re much more knowledgeable about it than I am. By all means.”

Fili glanced at him for a moment, before nodding. “It’s what they call a ‘paleolithic’ site. Built thousands of years ago, back in ancient times. Historians assume it was used for religious purposes, most likely by the ancient Druids; we’re not entirely sure how they built it, or how they made it stand for so long, which is why so many people find it fascinating. There’re several sights like it scattered around the area, but StoneHenge is the largest by far. As near as we can tell, they rolled each stone, individually, hundreds of miles, to stand them upright there for some reason.”

Balin raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’ve a fancy for history then?”

Fili shrugged, but Thorin saw the small blush on his face as he ducked his head. “Well, I mean… It’s rather interesting, isn’t it? StoneHenge has stood for thousands of years, and it’ll probably be here for thousands more after we’re long dead and buried. That sort of… immortality, I suppose you could call it, is amazing; I mean, we know next to nothing about the Druids, except that they built these stone circles. We don’t know why, we don’t know how… but we know that they built it,” He finished quietly, his face thoughtful.

“It is, indeed, amazing, Fili,” Thorin agreed. “I’m sure your tutor would be very proud.”

“We don’t have a tutor,” Fili said, his face going stony. “Mum taught us.”

Thorin couldn’t help the frown he gave the two boys. “Never? Lord Durin never arranged for a tutor, for either of you?” He asked, just to clarify. When Fili shook his head -Kili was still eating his sandwich, Thorin couldn’t even be sure if he’d heard him speak -Thorin shook his head. “Well, I imagine we could arrange for one, if you’d like; while I’ll admit I’ve been delaying conversing with Bilbo about the finances, I’m sure one could be found. If that’s to your liking,” He added quickly, suddenly unsure of the idea. The two were still suspicious enough of him, perhaps bringing another stranger into the mix so quickly wasn’t a good idea.

But Fili looked up at him, and just for the briefest moment, Thorin saw a glimmer of something akin to hope on the lad’s face, before it disappeared, back behind a mask of carefully crafted neutrality.

“Bilbo said it was probably for the best if we waited,” He said after a moment. “Given… current events, and all that.”

“I didn’t ask what Bilbo thought, Fili. I asked if you would like a tutor. If your brother would like one,” Thorin said gently, ignoring the warning glance Balin was giving him. Bilbo might’ve known a great many things, and in most matters, he would defer to him, but in that matter… He would’ve ridden back to find a tutor at that very moment, if he could only see that look of hope on Fili’s face again.

“I… could we… could we talk about it at a later time?”

Thorin barely refrained from sighing, seeing the slightest edges of suspicion breaking through the mask. “Of course; no need to decide anything immediately. There’s absolutely no hurry, I suppose. But you should think on it, at the very least, Fili.”

Fili gave him a slight nod. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

Thorin returned his nod, but he paused, when he saw Kili frowning at his brother; although the lad didn’t do anything but frown, his displeasure was written clearly on his face. After a moment, where Fili glared back, Kili pulled himself to his feet, and stomped off towards Mouse.

To Thorin’s surprise, the large horse knelt down on his front legs, lowering himself as Kili pulled himself up into the saddle. As soon as the boy had his seat, he clicked his tongue twice, and Mouse started off into the field at a canter.

“Is he upset?” Thorin asked, looking over at Fili.

“I’m not sure; it’s hard to tell, with Kili.”

Thorin had to bite his tongue, to stop himself from calling out the rather obvious lie, as he forced himself to nod again. “Very well. If he’s ready to leave, it looks like everyone is done eating; I suppose we should probably get moving again.”

“I’m sure Bofur and I can pick this up, Thorin, if you’d like to take the boys and ride ahead; I assume the boys know the way?”

Fili nodded hesitantly. “We do, but wouldn’t you rather if we helped you pack up?”

“Ah, no, laddie; while I appreciate your offer, I’d rather take my time, and do it correctly. I imagine Mrs. O’Brien would be rather angry if we forgot anything, or broke anything. No reason to hold everyone up.”

“Well… If you’re sure, Balin, I imagine Kili wouldn’t mind,” Thorin said, chuckling a bit as he glanced over his shoulder, spotting Kili glancing over at them impatiently.

“Quite sure. You lads ride on ahead; we’ll catch up.”

* * *

Balin sighed, watching Thorin and the two boys ride into the woods, before he turned back to Bofur.

“What was that about? I swear, the wee lad looked positively angry for a moment,” He said, his voice curious.

Bofur began packing away the remaining food as he spoke. “There was a… bit of a spat, two years ago. The first time I’d ever saw Fili stand up to the Lord. You have to understand, Fili had just started gettin’ bigger, and I’m sure you’ve heard o’ his temper. Well, the old Lord started talkin’ ‘bout sendin’ Fili away to one o’ those fancy boardin’ schools in the cities.

“Now, mind you, I only heard o’ what happened; I don’t go to the manor often, I tend to stay in the stables as much as I can. But ‘ccordin’ to Josie, the old Lord brought it up at dinner, and Fili, the poor lad, he absolutely lost his mind. Josie said he stood up, an’ started hollerin’ and yellin’, ‘bout how he weren’t leavin’, an’ he’d kill anyone who tried to separate him from his brother.

“I’m ashamed to say, Mr. Balin, that not a soul saw the lad for the better part o’ a week. The servants said he were locked in his room, an’ beaten so badly he couldn’t move without help. But he held his ground, an’ there were no more talk o’ sendin’ him off.”

“But why would that make Kili upset? Beyond the obvious, that is,” Balin added, feeling a bit of rage building at the mention of how Thorin’s father had apparently treated everyone in his life. “Thorin spoke of having a tutor come here, not sending him away to boarding school. And he turned it down anyways, or near enough to.”

“That, I don’t rightfully know. I do know that Fili’s a smart lad; he’d do well with a tutor, and Dis always said she hoped he’d go to University some day,” Bofur said with a shrug. “But Kili… Well, he’s a good lad, but with him not speakin’, it’s hard to guess what’s goin’ on in that funny little head o’ his sometimes.”

“Is he capable of speaking? I’ve not heard a peep out of him since we’ve arrived,” Balin commented as he loaded the basket onto the back of his horse. “I’m not overly familiar with children, but I seem to remember most of them chatter on without stop at this age.”

“Oh, the lad  _ can  _ speak; he just chooses not to. T’was ‘bout… three years ago, perhaps? Shortly ‘fore their mum died, he jus’ stopped speakin’. Bilbo says he’s heard him talkin’ to his brother once and again, but he’s said nary a word that I’ve heard in years. Don’t rightfully know why he stopped, but no amount of pesterin’, or even threats from the Lord could get him to talk,” Bofur said sadly, as he climbed up onto his horse.

Balin ‘hmm’ed as he followed suit, clicking his tongue a few times to get the mare moving again. They set off for the trail that Thorin and the boys had disappeared on, at an easy pace through the greenery.

Fili’s anger, and disciplinary issues were something Balin could understand; as much as he hated to admit it, Fili, at least, made sense to him. The boy was distrustful and angry at the world, assuming everyone meant to harm him.

Kili, however, was a different story. The lad seemed happy enough, riding on his horse, smiling, and even laughing. But to stop speaking, and skulk around the house, trying to go unnoticed, acting as if he were afraid of his own shadow? That made little enough sense, given that he seemed to be perfectly normal at other times.

He sighed again, shaking his head slightly when Bofur glanced over at him, unable to explain his thoughts to the other man, without making the situation worse. Because, the more he thought on it, the more Balin realized that the situation, with the boys, being in England, all of it… it wasn’t something that would be ‘resolved’ or ‘fixed’ with any sort of haste. It would be a long, arduous process even if everything went well, which was unlikely to happen.

He personally thought that it might be best to take the boys, and return to Australia; there was more freedom there, and no bad memories to wallow in.

But given Bilbo’s angry words in the carriage, how he would fight Thorin, digging up whatever dirt and misdeeds he could… He knew that suggesting taking the boys, and returning to Australia as quickly as possible wouldn’t go over well.

The situation was, as he saw it, either a long and difficult road, filled with stops and starts, backtracks and missteps… or doomed in the worst scenario.


	11. Chapter 11

Bilbo was most definitely  _ not  _ anxious.

Apprehensive, perhaps. Yes, apprehensive was a good word for it. It was completely normal - _ even understandable _ -for him to be apprehensive about the situation, as he glanced at the clock on his desk again, frowning when he saw that it’d been less than five minutes since he’d last looked at it.

But still, it was perfectly acceptable behavior for him to be apprehensive about the boys being gone. After all, it’d been nearly four months since the last time they’d left the house without him to accompany them, after the disastrous fiasco at the baker’s. After that, Bilbo had always gone with the boys if they left the manor, to ensure no more…  _ incidents _ .

He sighed, setting down the fountain pen; he hadn’t gotten any work done anyways, all he was doing was growing more frustrated, and…  _ apprehensive _ .

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Thorin; after all, if he’d truly had any doubts -any doubts -he wouldn’t have approved of the little adventure. He was sure, no matter what Fili believed, that Thorin was still a good man; all of his actions since his arrival had only confirmed it. However, the boys were… delicate. Thorin didn’t know them well, didn’t know their reactions, their fears, or what would trigger a fit.

Not that there was anything wrong with that; the man couldn’t be expected to know them overly much, given the very short amount of time he’d spent there, and the few interactions they’d had. But Thorin had always had a rather gruff way about him, an air of confidence that could easily be misconstrued as arrogance, or even violence.

And with Fili being so on edge, constantly… well, as that morning had already shown, the poor thing was set off by the smallest things, going into a blind rage at the slightest provocation. It was something Bilbo had been trying to work with him on, but it was difficult to fully get a grasp on, since the lad had every good justification to be suspicious of everyone.

Even people he’d known his entire life -Bilbo wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt a bit that Fili didn’t entirely trust even him. Oh, of course the lad trusted Bilbo more than most, but it wasn’t like that was a difficult achievement; the boy distrusted everyone, aside from his brother, and perhaps Mrs. O’Brien.

And Kili! He sighed as he thought about the youngest Durin male. Obviously, Kili was as emotionally disturbed as his brother, although it was harder to gage the extent, given his muteness. He appeared, most days, to be completely well-adjusted, leaving aside the fact that he refused to talk, but he had his bad days, like Fili did. Days when he would traverse the house like a ghost, that led to nights where he’d scream in his sleep, loud enough to wake even the staff. Luckily those were becoming few and farther between, but it was a scary occurrence, when it did happen.

The first few times, Bilbo had scarcely known what to do. Fili had told him -repeatedly -to get out, and leave it to him to take care of, but it had just seemed so wrong. Bilbo had spent many sleepless nights, perched outside the boy’s door, listening to Fili soothe Kili back to sleep, waiting to see if it would occur again.

Sometimes it did; lately, when he did wake screaming, Fili was usually able to get him back to sleep, and they’d both sleep through the night.

But that was another issue. One Bilbo was working incredibly hard to make sure that no one found out. The information that Fili and Kili still regularly shared a bed together, even in all innocence of children, couldn’t be allowed to leave the manor. While the staff, understood - _ and how could they not _ \- given that rumors of Thorin still ran rampant through town, and amongst the nobility, he knew nothing good could come of it.

It still absolutely infuriated Bilbo. Lord Durin had beaten the boys senseless with frequency, starved them, locked them away,  _ tortured  _ them… And no one had done a thing. By all laws and legality, unless he had killed them, Thrain had had every right to ‘discipline’ the boys as he saw fit.

Oh, of course, people had talked about it, both the commoners and the nobility. But nobody had done  _ anything _ . Gossip had been the most anyone had done about the situation.

However, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that with Thorin’s return, if word were to get out about the boys’ completely innocent sleeping habits… Someone would step in. Whether the boys were sent to a school somewhere, or even left with Bilbo in an absolutely best case scenario, Thorin would not be allowed around them.

He couldn’t help but fume. The fact that beating children was, apparently, more socially acceptable than one’s choice of sexual partner was a horrific thing, one that spoke volumes of England’s priorities.

That had been part of the reason for Thorin’s very sudden and abrupt depart, sixteen years ago, Bilbo had no doubt. Even at twelve, Bilbo had heard the gossip around town. His mother had told him to ignore him, but it had been everywhere then.

Lord Durin had found his oldest son with a man from the village -a man who had been lynched for his ‘crime’ -and Thorin had fled as soon as he’d recovered from his father’s ‘tender’ mercies. While as far as Bilbo knew, England hadn’t hung any children for their ‘crime’, Thorin had been approaching an age where youth wouldn’t have protected him. 

Of course, no one had said that it had been Thorin the villager had slept with; that part had been kept rather hush hush, simply that the man had engaged in ‘buggery of the worst order’. But the little village doctor had been called to Erebor Manor the day after the lynching, and Thorin hadn’t been seen for almost a fortnight. Rumors were everywhere, and the commoners had started casting suspicious eyes at the manor.

When Thorin had called upon Bilbo’s father one night, almost two weeks later, he’d looked simply terrible; his long hair had been shorn haphazardly, cut at odd, short angles, his face a horrific mess of bruises and swelling. Thorin and Bongo had spoken in hushed whispers, but Bilbo had glanced out of his room enough to see that Thorin had looked about to fall over, holding one arm around his middle, leaning heavily on the doorframe.

But whatever they had talked about, Bongo had disappeared for a few hours. Bilbo’s mother had herded Thorin towards the table, and Bilbo had finally given up on pretending to be asleep, cautiously sitting across from Thorin at the table.

No one had spoken, even Belladona. She’d made tea, and given both boys sweetcakes then moved around the kitchen like a force of nature, packing a small package. When Bongo had returned, it’d been in a carriage. Bilbo’s parents had handed him the small package of food, a blanket, and an extra jacket, before Bongo had guided him out towards the carriage, still speaking in low tones.

Bilbo had never forgotten Thorin’s face in that moment. Despite the situation, despite knowing what he was leaving, he’d stood as tall as he’d been able to, somehow managing to give Bilbo and his mother a small bow, as he’d left, looking more like a lord in that moment than Lord Thrain ever had.

That had been the last Bilbo had seen of Thorin, until he’d arrived to take custody of the children. Bongo had received one letter, a letter that had come into Bilbo’s possession upon his father’s death. At the time, Bilbo hadn’t known what it was, but when he’d searched through his father’s study, a few days after the funeral, he’d found the letter from Thorin, tucked away in the little chest where Bongo had kept his most important possessions.

_ Master Baggins, _ the letter had read,  _ I have arrived safely in Sidney, and for that, I am most grateful. You and your wife have done me a kindness I shall never be able to repay. For that, I thank you. Please, if you can, let my brother and sister know that I am alright, and I will contact them when I’m able. Yours, Thorin Durin. _

He didn’t know what Thorin had done when he’d arrived in Australia; Bongo and Belladona had died without receiving another letter, although Dis had received several letters that Bilbo knew about. In the years following Thorin’s departure, Frerin had told Bilbo that Thorin had apparently done well for himself; that he’d bought a ranch with some friends of his, and were turning a tidy profit. Frerin hadn’t offered any information about Thorin’s ‘friends’, and Bilbo hadn’t asked.

It was the same reason he hadn’t questioned Thorin’s relationship with Balin Fundin at all upon their arrival: mostly for plausible deniability, if the issue did arise. While the man seemed to be just a good friend, one could never tell, after all.

It was a travesty, in Bilbo’s opinion. While he didn’t care who one slept with - _ it wasn’t his business, after all, not his business at all _ -he liked to consider himself fairly open minded. People shouldn’t be judged for their proclivities, as long as all parties were consenting. But although Thorin was -technically -the lord of Erebor Manor now, there was no telling how people would react, even with the comforting protection of land and title. While no one had been killed for their proclivities in a few years, one could never be entirely sure, or safe. 

“Mr. Baggins, sir! They’ve returned!”

Bilbo jumped a bit, startled at the young serving girl yelling up to him. But he managed a nod. “Very good, Elizabeth; please let Mrs. O’Brien know, so she can start supper,” He called out, hurrying down the stairs towards the door.

“Of course, Mr. Baggins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I tend to avoid soapboxing, in this case, I feel it is relevant.
> 
> In England, until 1867, it was entirely legal to lynch someone for the crime of being a male homosexual. In a 60 year period, almost 9,000 men were prosecuted and jailed, with 60 of them being killed for their so-called 'crime' -and that's only what we know about through official records. In smaller, more rural communities, where historical records are harder to find, there are estimates that many more men were either 'executed' by official authority, or 'lynched' by angry villagers simply for the crime of loving the 'wrong' gender.
> 
> I don't insist that people agree with anyone's sexuality. But as long as two grown ass people are of consenting age, it's nobody else's business what happens. In England, and elsewhere around the world (I'm not picking solely on the English here, just using it as a reference, given the timing and locale of the story), there was less punishment for rape, or maiming a person, than there was for the 'sin' of being gay.
> 
> We have come a long way from that. And we need to appreciate where we used to be, and where we are today. Again, sorry for being 'soapbox'y with this, but I think it's important that we remember our history, and understand the struggles our ancestors went through to help us arrive where we are today.


	12. Chapter 12

“Good night, boys.”

“Good night, Bilbo. Uncle,” Fili said, giving Thorin a polite headbow before he herded Kili -who was half asleep -out of the study.

Thorin sighed contentedly, before moving over to the alcohol cabinet and perusing the contents. The selection was, as he expected, of a large variety and astonishing quality. Finally, he settled on a bottle of aged honeyed whiskey. As he turned, he made a gesture of offering to Balin and Bilbo, who were still sitting. Bilbo shook his head, but Balin nodded, and Thorin grabbed two glasses from their hidey hole in the back of the cabinet.

“Nice to see my father changed nothing,” Thorin said, setting the glasses down, and filling them both, and handing one over to Balin. “Only the finest liquor for him.”

“How did the trip go today?” Bilbo asked as Thorin sat down. “The boys seemed relatively happy.”

Thorin hesitated, before nodding. “I think it actually went rather well. Although Kili seemed rather upset when Fili and I were discussing the possibility of retaining a tutor.”

He didn’t miss the way that Bilbo started a bit, a look of anger crossing his face, before the younger man schooled his face back to a neutral expression.

“Well, I’d imagine he would be upset, Thorin,” Bilbo said, his tone clipped. “The idea of bringing a stranger in would obviously upset him; you’ve seen how they’ve both reacted just having you here. Imagine a complete stranger with no relation to them.”

Balin shook his head. “No, laddie, I believe the wee one was more upset that Fili turned the offer down. Fili looked… well, probably the closest I’ve seen to him being excited for something, but then he refused, and Kili looked positively murderous over it. Another first, as far as I’ve seen.”

Thorin frowned a bit, idly swirling the liquid in his glass. “I hadn’t noticed that. I’ll admit though, I was more focused on Fili. He’d seemed -as you said -excited about the prospect of a tutor, but then immediately, he shifted. As if he felt he wasn’t allowed to be excited about something.”

Rather abruptly, Bilbo stood, marching over to the bottle on the desk. To Thorin’s eternal surprise, Bilbo slugged back a goodly amount of it, before setting it down on the desk, his normally bright eyes dark.

“If I… What I mean to say is…” He stopped, muttering something under his breath, and scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not entirely sure it’s my place to say anything.”

Thorin sat up straighter, fixing Bilbo with as solid a stare as he could muster. “If you know something about the lads, something that might help them, or even to help me understand them better, I can’t imagine why you would keep it from me,” He said, trying to keep his voice level, reminding himself that Bilbo only had the best intentions in mind.

“Well… I’ve no proof, you must understand. Only suspicions. Ones I wouldn’t dare to speak of, outside of family.”

“Thorin!”

At Balin’s sharp exclamation, Thorin glanced down at his hand. “Oh. Oh, I… Apologies, I…”

Bilbo and Balin had both taken a step closer, but Thorin ignored them, staring down at the now-broken glass in his hand, and the remaining liquid dripping through his fingers, and down onto his trousers. A waste of quality whiskey; his father would’ve been absolutely furious.

“Thorin? Oakenshield, you’re bleeding, laddie,” Balin said, his tone gentle, and Thorin looked up at him in confusion.

“What? No, I’m fine.” Clearly he was fine, it was just a bit of broken glass; with his father already dead, there was no need to worry about a fear of reprisal. “I’m fine,” He repeated, looking back at the two other men.

“Of course you’re not!” Bilbo said, and Thorin barely suppressed the urge to chuckle at the slight squeak in the man’s voice. “Thorin, your hand. You’re bleeding.”

Carefully, Thorin set the remains of the broken glass down on the floor next to his chair. He then stood, brushing the larger pieces off his clothes with his uninjured hand. “It’s nothing, just a slight cut. I’ll be fine.”

Bilbo pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and moved closer. Almost in a distant sort of way, Thorin noticed Balin put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, as if to stop him from moving.

“Thorin… Laddie, your hand is bleeding. Badly,” Balin said, taking a step closer. “Why don’t you let the wee man here bandage it up, hmm?”

“No, I… I can clean and bandage it myself if it needs it. If you’ll both excuse me, I’ll… I think I’ll retire.”

* * *

Balin waited until Thorin was fully out of the room, the sound of his heavy footsteps retreating down the hall before he released a sigh. He moved over to start picking up the shards of broken glass, glancing up at Bilbo, who was staring at the door in bewilderment.

“It’s… He gets that way sometimes, laddie,” He said in way of explanation. “He’ll be fine in the morning.”

“But his hand -”

“You remember how you warned us that the older lad doesn’t like being touched without warning? Well, when he’s in that sort of mood, neither does Thorin. Took Dwalin and I a few nasty tries to learn that one. Hasn’t done it in years though. I imagine, however, whatever you suspected Thorin knew to be true.”

Bilbo blanched, his face looking white as death for a moment. “Oh. Oh my.”

Balin sighed again, disposing of the glass pieces in the bin. “I suppose, if you weren’t comfortable telling Thorin what he already suspected, you’d rather not tell me?”

He wasn’t surprised when Bilbo shook his head mutely.

“Well. I suppose this rather ruins the night then. Every up must have its down, as my mother used to say. Seems like it took me years to get to a point with Thorin where we finally had more ups than downs. Good night, laddie.”

“Wait, Mr… Balin. Balin.” Balin stopped, and glanced back at Bilbo, who was wringing his hands together unsurely. “Could I… Thorin. He seemed like he was… Different.”

Balin growled, turning around angrily to glare at the little man. “What do you mean by ‘different’, Mr. Baggins? He’s no more different than you or I; except our foibles are socially accepted.”

“What? Oh, no, no, of course, I wasn’t referring to… to  _ that _ . I just… When he arrived, he seemed… Well, he seemed rather well.”

Balin scrubbed a hand over his beard as he made his way over to the chair, feeling the age in his bones as he sat down, motioning for Bilbo to do the same.

“He is. Or as well as he can be,” Balin corrected himself. “He’s come a long ways, over the years I’ve known him. He’s carved a life for himself, back home. It took us -him, myself, and my brother -years of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears to achieve our little slice of paradise. But every once in a while… I might not have known the full extent of what his life was here, but I knew enough to know that it’d been… not good.

“To be honest though… I imagine I knew that the first moment I laid eyes on him. There’s not many healthy, happy homes, that can drive a very young man to make such a dangerous journey, to a dangerous place, where he has no friends or relations, with no more money than he carried in his pocket. But my brother and I… we learned. And we taught. He was as suspicious of other folks as Fili was, when we first started travelling together. Took us years to get him to trust us, to view us as friends.

“But whatever his father did to him… If you’re looking for hope that eventually the boys will simply ‘grow out of’ whatever their grandfather has done to them, I’m afraid to disappoint you, laddie; as you just saw, they’ll simply become better at masking it. That’s not to say they won’t be happy,” He hastened to add, seeing tears welling up in Bilbo’s eyes. “Not at all. But they will forever be haunted by the events that happened in this dreadful house.”

Bilbo patted at his eyes with his handkerchief. “I… It’s funny; when I was younger, I thought Thorin to be invincible. Frerin and I, we played together often, and Thorin always seemed so… So strong. So fierce. He could be kind as well, of course, but from what I’d seen, and the way Frerin described him, he was… well… invincible.”

“My father used to say that the strongest men hid the deepest wounds. Thorin is as steady as a rock, Bilbo, but you don’t simply ‘get over’ your childhood. Much like a horse that’s been mistreated, even when shown kindness again, it can only relearn to a certain degree,” Balin said sadly, thinking of Mouse. “Thorin is strong because he has to be. What you saw, when you were a child, was Thorin trying to be strong for his brother and sister, I imagine. That’s how he’s been for as long as I’ve known him. Whenever things would go wrong, or something would fall apart, Thorin was there to get it back together again; he never complained, or despaired, he simply did what needed doing.”

Bilbo sniffled a bit, as he tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Balin, you must consider me to be -”

“A very kind individual,” Balin interrupted. “I think nothing less of you for your tears.”

* * *

Kili woke, sitting straight up. With practiced ease, he hurried to quiet his breathing, glancing over to make sure that Fili was still asleep next to him. His big brother was laying on his back, snoring lightly, one hand tucked up behind his head.

Kili frowned as he carefully scooched off the bed, making sure not to disturb Fili. Something had woken him up, and it hadn’t been Fili. Or a nightmare, since the entire house hadn’t piled into his bedroom.

He crept across the bedroom, opening the doorway as quietly as he could, and sneaking out into the hallway. He had started to turn towards the main branch of the house - _ maybe Maggie had left some pies or biscuits out _ -when his head snapped around, of its own accord, looking towards Lord Durin’s old rooms. There was the smallest bit of light peeking out from underneath the doorway.

_ Lord Durin is dead. He’s dead, and buried. It must be Bilbo looking for something. _

Like some force were pulling him, he found his feet turning towards the bedroom, walking as quietly as he could towards the closed door. He glanced down to see his hands moving, as if of their own free will, to turn the knob, and push the door open a crack.

Immediately, before he had time to react, the door was yanked open, and a pair of large hands was yanking him in the room. He tried to scramble out of the hold, only to find himself dropped to the ground roughly.

He took a moment, taking a breath, before he finally opened his eyes, looking up at the figure in front of him.

It was Thorin, staring down at him, looking absolutely horrified.

“Kili… Kili, lad, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I meant nothing by it, I… I’m sorry,” He said, his voice oddly thick sounding. “You startled me, is all; I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Cautiously, Kili pulled himself to his feet, watching Thorin closely for any sign that his uncle intended to stop him from moving. But Thorin remained perfectly still, staying just out of arm’s reach.

“Kili, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear.”

Kili slowly glanced around the room, forcing himself not to shudder as he took it all in for the first time in over a year. He hadn’t been in the room -hadn’t even went near the door -since Lord Durin had died. By the looks of things, nobody had, besides maybe one of the cleaning maids.

“Kili? I know you don’t want to talk to me, but… are you alright? Could you at least let me know if I’ve harmed you?”

He kept his mouth shut, although he did give Thorin a tiny nod. The man sighed, falling back to sit on the bed.

“Thank God for that. What’re you doing out of bed? You should be sleeping; did I wake you?”

Kili shrugged; he wasn’t sure what had woken him, although it most likely had been Thorin. No need to tell him that, though, it would only make him upset.

“Well, you should… you should probably go back to bed; you don’t want to upset your brother, if he wakes up.”

Kili shrugged again, moving over, and sitting on the rug in the center of the room, staring at Thorin. The older man looked… odd, almost like Fili used to, after he’d come back from these very rooms, as if he was there and not there at the same time. Like he was looking at Kili, but not actually seeing him, although Kili couldn’t have guessed what he was actually seeing.

It made him uncomfortable, uncomfortable enough that Kili knew he was staring at Thorin, which Bilbo said was rude. But he couldn’t help it. It was like staring at a dark-haired version of an older Fili.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it when Fili looked like that, and to his surprise, he got the same tight feeling in his chest seeing Thorin look like that.

He had to brace himself for it, hype himself up, but eventually, he forced himself to his feet, moving cautiously over to the bed. Thorin watched him, doing that seeing-but-not-seeing thing, but he didn’t move at all, even when Kili jumped up on the bed next to him.

Kili reached out, slowly, keeping one eye on Thorin, and his movements obvious, so that Thorin could pull away if he wanted to. Sometimes, when Fili looked like that, he didn’t want to be touched, even by Kili, and Kili wanted to make sure Thorin had plenty of time to pull away if he wanted to.

But he didn’t. He stayed absolutely still as Kili put his hand on Thorin’s arm, and Kili began rubbing small circles, like he did with Fili when he was upset.

Thorin made an odd sort of choking noise, as if he was trying to keep tears in; Fili made the same noises, when he was trying to prove to Kili that he was okay, even when he wasn’t.

Kili just waited; Fili often would open up, if Kili just waited and gave him time. Pushing him just made him angry.

After a few minutes, Thorin spoke, although it didn’t seem like he was talking to Kili.

“I just… This room… I spent so much time here, when I was younger. There’s nothing but painful memories here, but I still just… It seems like it was yesterday, and years ago. I wasn’t much older than your brother, the last time I was in here. I didn’t… Mr. Siedewick had to carry me back to my rooms; I couldn’t move for three days.”

“He hurt you too?” Kili couldn’t stop himself, although he knew he wasn’t supposed to speak. His voice wasn’t higher than a whisper, but Thorin appeared to have heard him anyways.

Thorin looked at him for a moment, before he dropped his head, staring at the ground. “Aye. In more ways than one. I know it doesn’t… doesn’t make anything easier, or better, but… I know what you and your brother went through, Kili. All of it.”

He looked up, staring at Kili intensely, as if he was searching for something, although Kili didn’t know what. He frowned, unsure what Thorin expected of him, but Thorin only sighed, seeming relieved.

“That’s something, at least,” Thorin said quietly. “For you, at least. Small favors.”

“I don’t understand,” Kili said, his voice still quiet, but at least not a whisper. He’d already spoke once, there was no point in pretending, no matter how angry Fili might be.

“And thank God for that, Kili. Thank God for that.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, but this was emotionally draining to write, and I wanted to make a clean start of the next one so... Yeah. Be warned, this might be a hard read for some folks.

Fili woke up with a start, his hand reaching towards the other side of the bed out of pure instinct. When he grabbed only bedding, he sat straight up, his heart pounding.

_ Don’t panic _ . Kili would get up regularly, he didn’t sleep well, and since Lord Durin’s death, he’d taken to wandering the house until he was tired. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he could’ve been down in the kitchen raiding the pantry, or curled up in the library. He could’ve been anywhere -most likely was.  _ He’d be back, it wouldn’t take long, he’d crawl back in bed soon. Hadn’t even been gone that long, the bed was still somewhat warm. He was fine. _

But his heartbeat didn’t slow, and his breathing remained faster than it should. Kili was probably fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure. He just needed to make sure. So he pulled himself off the bed, moving towards the door quickly. Even though Kili was most likely curled up somewhere, snacking on one of Maggie’s pies, it didn’t hurt to check. He grabbed his robe, slipping it over his shoulders as he moved into the hallway. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Lord Durin’s door, open just a crack, but enough for light to illuminate the hallway

“... ways than one. I know it doesn’t… doesn’t make anything easier, or better, but… I know what you and your brother went through, Kili. All of it.”

Fili froze, his hand halfway on the doorway, his tongue feeling stuck in his throat at Thorin’s words.

“... understand.”

Fili bit back a sob, shoving his fist in his mouth to force himself to stay quiet, hearing Kili’s questioning response. He didn’t understand; Fili had gone to great lengths - _ lengths that made him want to puke, thinking about it  _ -to make sure that Kili didn’t understand what Thorin was talking about.

“And thank God for that, Kili. Thank God for that.”

_ Thorin knew, though. Thorin understood. Thorin knew, he understood, which meant… _

Fili pushed the door open, stepping inside the room, trying to fight back the urge to vomit as he took in the room. Thorin and Kili sitting there on the bed.

_ Don’t vomit, don’t look at the bed, don’t look at the bed _ .

“Fili?”

Fili swallowed, giving Kili what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Kili,” He said, his voice only cracking a little bit. “Why don’t you go back to bed so I can talk to Thorin.”

Kili stood, but stood between Fili and Thorin, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

“It’s alright, Kili,” Fili said, trying to keep his voice level. “I… we just want to talk. Why don’t you go see if… if Maggie left snacks in the kitchen?”

Kili hesitated for a moment, before he nodded, slipping past Fili, taking just enough time to squeeze his hand before he disappeared down the hallway. Fili waited until he couldn’t hear his footsteps, before he finally looked at Thorin.

* * *

Thorin had stood as soon as Fili had thrown the door open, bracing himself for another fight. But Fili only stared around the room, his eyes distant, face pale before he finally looked at his brother.

“Fili?”

Fili’s glazed over eyes focused, looking at Kili. He still looked as if he’d seen a spectre, but he gave Kili a small, broken-looking smile.

“I’m fine, Kili,” The lad said, his voice breaking at the end. “Why don’t you go back to bed so I can talk to Thorin?”

Kili stood up, glancing at Thorin unsurely, before looking at his brother, then back at Thorin, his face conflicted.

“It’s alright, Kili,” Fili said, sounding next to tears, although he managed to keep the small smile on his face. “I… we just want to talk. Why don’t you go see if… if Maggie left snacks in the kitchen?”

Kili finally obeyed, slipping past his brother, who had closed his eyes. Thorin waited, as a minute passed. Then two. Finally, Fili opened his eyes, full of unshed tears, and looked at Thorin.

“He doesn’t know,” He said, his voice little more than a whisper. “He… Lord Durin… I made sure. Kili… Lord Durin, he never… I made sure. I made sure.”

Thorin resisted the urge to stand up, to rush over and give the boy a hug, to tell him it’d be alright. But he nodded, staring down at his own hands, unable to look at Fili anymore, the guilt too much for him to bear.

“I’m sorry, Fili. Nobody should… Thrain shouldn’t have… Nobody should have to… “ He swallowed thickly past the lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was only… only when he was drunk… But after… after mum died, he was… He was drunk most nights. He used to… he used to make me… He used to make me say… That I… that I enjoyed it.”

Thorin’s head shot up, of its own accord, and he stared at the boy in horror. Fili, for his part, wasn’t looking at him, he was staring anywhere but at Thorin, tears shimmered in his eyes, and the young boy - _ so young, Christ he was so young _ -reached up to swipe at them angrily.

“I didn’t though. I didn’t. I never did, I didn’t want it, but… But… “

Thorin forced back his own tears, standing up, and moving closer. It was like a knife through his heart when the boy flinched, so violently that he practically cringed, but Thorin ignored it, standing directly in front of Fili, although he didn’t touch him.

“I know you didn’t; I didn’t either,” Thorin said softly. “It’s not your fault, Fili.”

“I tried to fight,” The boy said desperately, finally looking up at Thorin, his eyes desperate. “I tried, I tried so hard, I didn’t want it, and I… I tried, I tried, but he was so big, and I… It hurt less, if I didn’t fight, if I just… if I just did what he wanted, it hurt less. It didn’t hurt as badly. But I didn’t want it, Thorin, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”

Thorin couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed Fili by the shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace. For his part, Fili seemed to sink into it, clinging to Thorin desperately, his shoulders heaving with the weight of his sobbing.

“I believe you, lad; it wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault,” He said, letting his cheek rest on top of Fili’s hair. “You did what you had to; there’s no blame in that. None of it was your fault.”

Fili mumbled something into Thorin’s chest, something that Thorin could only barely make out.

“What?”

“They’ll hang me,” Fili whimpered, pulling back a bit, although his grip tightened, and Thorin could feel the shudders coursing through his body. “That’s what he said, they’ll hang me for being a bugger. A queer. They’ll hang me. I don’t want… I didn’t want it, but -”

Thorin pushed him back a bit, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Fili, you did nothing wrong. No one would ever… you weren’t to blame. Even if you liked men -boys -it wouldn’t matter. Nothing he did was your fault. And no one will lay a hand on you while I draw breath. Do you hear me, Fili? No one will ever touch you again, not while I live. I promise you.”

He wasn’t sure how long he held the boy, letting him cry in his grasp. But eventually, his sobbing subsided, and Thorin glanced down to see that he’d fallen asleep. With a sigh, he scooped Fili up, carrying him towards Kili’s room.


	14. Chapter 14

Bilbo glanced around the dining room, quirking one eyebrow at Balin. The older man shrugged.

“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of any of them,” Balin said, before returning his attention to his eggs. “Not since they left the study last night.”

Bilbo frowned as he moved into the room, hands twitching idly over the back of his chair. “Do you… should we check on Thorin? I imagine the boys are still asleep -Kili was near exhausted after your trip -but I would’ve thought -”

“My apologies.”

Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around to spot Thorin standing in the doorway. However, his anxiety only increased when he took a good look at the other man.

He looked exhausted; large dark circles sat heavily under his eyes, his normally immaculate hair tangled in some spots, matted down in others. Even his normally impassive bearing was gone, instead he carried himself as a man much older than his years, as if every step was a monumental effort. 

“I hope you didn’t wait on me, Bilbo.”

Bilbo snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head. “No. No, of course not. I’ve only just arrived myself. I was up rather late doing paperwork last night, so I had assumed that I would be the tardy one,” He said with a nervous chuckle, finally pulling his chair out and sitting down. “Are you feeling alright?”

Thorin gave him an unreadable look, his face haggard, as he practically dropped in his own chair, before he waved his hand dismissively. “I’m fine; just a bit tired. It would appear no one slept well last night. Not an uncommon occurrence I’d gather.”

Bilbo sat up straighter. “What do you mean ‘no one’? Did Kili -”

“He’s fine, Bilbo. They were both still sleeping when I looked in on them. Although I don’t imagine it will take Kili long to join us; he was starting to stir when I checked on them.”

Bilbo sighed in relief. “Oh, good. Very good. I thought perhaps he’d had a nightmare.”

“Not that I was aware of,” Thorin said, starting to fill his plate slowly. “What of you, Balin? How did you fare last night?”

Bilbo glanced over at Balin, who shrugged carelessly. “Like a rock, Oakenshield; you know me well enough to know nothing disturbs my slumber.”

“Excuse me… This might be rather forward,” Bilbo said, glancing back and forth between the two. “But… that’s the third time I’ve heard you refer to Thorin as ‘Oakenshield’; may I ask why?”

Balin chuckled, and glanced over at Thorin, whose cheeks had attained a slight blush. “Do you want to tell him, or shall I?”

“It’s nothing, really,” Thorin muttered, before taking a bite of his food.

“Nothing! Why, Bilbo, my boy, I’m about to tell you a tale that they still talk about Melbourne. We -Thorin, my brother Dwalin, and myself -had just taken a hundred head to Melbourne. It was a hard drive; there’d been a drought that year, and that hundred head was going to fetch us a pretty price, enough to replace the cattle we’d lost due to the drought.

“So we’d been traveling nearly two weeks, and Melbourne was in sight. Perhaps five miles in the distance. We’d just run into another small driver and his brother, with twenty head of their own. What were their names again, Thorin?”

“Oin, and his brother Gloin,” Thorin mumbled, still looking somewhat embarrassed, staring at his plate.

“Yes, that was it. So there we were, the two group, pushing towards the town, when suddenly, we hear gunfire. Practically felt it, they were so close.”

“ ‘They’?” Bilbo asked, leaning forward in interest. “The natives?”

Balin shook his head. “No, the aborigines tend to leave us alone, for the most part; these were bandits. Ten of them, riding hard on our herd. They couldn’t have known much about cattle; I think they expected the herd to bolt, because of the sound. They fired an initial volley into the air, and then dived in with their sabers at us. But it’d been a long, hard journey, and the cattle were barely dragging their feet as it was; they barely even reacted.

“Well, we were caught off guard; to tell the truth of it, we were just as tired as the cattle. Since we’d fallen asleep the night before, staring at the city, we hadn’t bothered with our own pistols or sabers.

“So there we were, four tired men, and a boy barely old enough to grow a beard, and not a one of us armed beyond our small pocket knives. Gloin’s horse bolted, the poor lad, dragging him off towards Melbourne. Dwalin and I dived off our mares, and tried to find cover; we hoped we could load our firearms in time to maybe protect some of the herd, but in full honesty, Bilbo, we had little hope that we’d be able to stop them.

“But then, we spot Thorin. There he went, half-in, half-out of Bongo’s saddle, riding hard towards the bandits for all Bongo was worth. At first, we thought he was just trying to use the horse for cover, in case the bandits fired off another volley. But then we saw him grab something off the ground. It was nearly a log, Bilbo, and no mistake, it was three and a half foot if it was an inch, nearly seven inches round. He charged in at the bandits, headfirst, waving that log around like it was a warhammer. Most of them went down, hard, after being knocked clear off their horses; a few fled. But one brave bastard -or stupid -decided to charge back at Thorin with his saber.

“I tell you, Bilbo, Dwalin and I were struck dumb; we could barely move, so shocked were we. There was Thorin, with nothing more than a piece of wood, and a man riding down on him, sword held high, ready to cleave his head from his body. But at the perfect moment, Thorin brought the log up, at the perfect height, and the bandit’s sword sunk into the wood. Thorin used his leverage to pull him off of his horse, and Bongo made quick work of him.

“By that time, several of the townsfolk had made their way to us, alerted by Gloin. And there stood Thorin, astride Bongo, with nothing more than an oak log, with a sword sticking clear out of the center. From then on, he became known as ‘Oakenshield’.”

* * *

Kili had been awake for a good bit, although he wasn’t exactly sure how long. He’d closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, when Thorin had peeked in.

When he’d returned to his room last night, after getting himself a snack from the kitchens, and a book from the library, he’d found Fili, curled up in their bed, fast asleep, with Thorin asleep in the chair in the corner by the fireplace. Not knowing what else to do, Kili had climbed up in bed next to his brother, and drifted off. When he’d woke again, Thorin had been gone, although Fili was still sleeping deeply next to him.

With no real plans for the day -and no reason to rush -Kili had decided to stay abed until Fili woke. While Fili always denied that he ever had bad dreams, Kili noticed that he seemed to sleep better with Kili by his side.

So he’d gotten up long enough to get his favorite book,  _ New Fairy Tales _ , before climbing back into bed, quickly turning to his favorite tale, that of the ugly duckling.

That’d always been his favorite, ever since Bilbo had gotten the book for him last year. He’d made Fili read it to him hundreds of times, and it’d become the staple of their bedtime stories, when Fili was too tired to make up stories for him.

He ran his hands over the first picture, the picture of the titular ugly duckling. As he always did, he couldn’t help but notice that -even for a baby swan -the ugly duckling wasn’t that ugly; in fact, he looked very much like the baby swans Kili had seen before, and other than his coloring, he wasn’t that different looking from baby ducks either.

Kili harumphed quietly. His coloring was all wrong too, with his tanned skin, and dark, lanky hair. Uncle Frerin, Fili, and Mum all had that light colored hair, like someone had spun straw into hair, except thicker, and softer. And their skin was lighter than Kili’s as well, although Fili did often darken up a bit in the summer months.

But not Kili. Until meeting Thorin, he’d thought himself a freak, the odd duckling out in their little family.

He frowned a bit as the thought settled in. He looked like Thorin. Oh, he wasn’t nearly as big, or strong, and his hair wasn’t nearly as magnificent, but… it was the same color hair, the same tanned skin. The same features to their face.

Perhaps that wasn’t so bad, then. Fili might look more like Uncle Frerin, but Kili looked like Thorin, so turnabout and all that. 

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt the bed shift next to him, and he glanced over just in time to hear Fili groan, and yank the covers up higher.

“What time is it?” Fili muttered, peeking his head out of the blankets enough to glance around the room. He looked at the timepiece in the corner, and groaned again. “Ugh.”

Kili waited patiently, still staring at his brother, before Fili pulled the blankets up over his head again.

“Go get breakfast, if you’d like. I’m going to stay here a bit longer.”

Kili frowned. “You’re not hungry?”

“No. Not at all.”

“I could go and get us both something?”

“I said I’m not hungry. I just want to lay here a bit, yeah? Go on; I’ll be down later.”

Kili hesitated for a moment, before picking up his book, and holding it up towards his brother. “Did… did you want to read my book? Or… Or I could tell you a story, if you’d like?”

He could hear Fili sigh from underneath the blanket, moments before they were pulled back, and he could see that Fili was trying to be patient with him.

“Kili… I love you, brother, but… I’d rather just… sit here by myself, for a bit. If you don’t mind.”

Kili sighed, and pulled himself off the bed, still holding onto his book. “Alright. If you need anything -”

“I’m fine, Kili. But thank you.”

Kili grabbed his pants and shirt, slipping them on quickly, careful not to drop his book in his hurry, before leaving the room. On his way towards the stairs, he nearly collided with Josie in his haste.

“Oh! Well, good morning, Kili! Mister Baggins sent me up to look in on you boys; is your brother still abed?” When Kili nodded, Josie frowned, just for a moment, just long enough for Kili to see it, before she smiled again, offering him her hand. “Well then, I suppose you and I will have to see to the scones and jam ourselves.”

Kili nodded eagerly as he took her hand; Maggie’s scones were to die for, particularly with her raspberry jam.

“Good. Perhaps I’ll fix a few, and we can take them out to the garden; after we finish, I can read your book aloud, if you like. It’s a beautiful day outside, although Granny swears it will rain later this evening,” Josie said conversationally, as they started downstairs. “I believe Mr. Baggins and your uncle will be rather busy the rest of the morning, and perhaps part of the afternoon as well; they had business matters to see to, things with your grandfather’s estate. So until your brother joins us, we’ll have the gardens to ourselves.”

She paused for a moment, glancing down at Kili. “Did Fili sleep well last night? When Kili shook his head, she released his hand. “Well then, I imagine we’ll need two books. Maybe even the checkerboard. What do you think? Well, scurry off then and get them; I’ll get the scones, and meet you in the gardens.”

* * *

“While I don’t mind, Thorin, as your solicitor, I must ask: are you alright with Balin being present for this discussion?”

Balin snorted, loud enough that Thorin frowned at him -a gesture Balin promptly ignored. “I imagine, laddie, you’ll find me paying more attention than Thorin. But, if you wish me to leave, I shall.”

“No, Balin,” Thorin said, although he still frowned. “The discussion and choices made in this matter will concern you as well. Regardless of what those choices are.”

“I’m sorry?” Bilbo asked, glancing between Balin and Thorin, looking rather confused. Balin started to speak, but Thorin spoke first.

“What I mean, Bilbo, is that Balin owns one third of the ranch; his brother Dwalin owns another third, and I control the last third. So whatever choices -financially, or otherwise -will be of concern to Balin and his brother as well.”

Balin gave Thorin a nod of appreciation, although he secretly believed Thorin wanted him there for another reason entirely. No need to mention it though, given that Thorin looked absolutely awful as it stood; Balin wasn’t entirely sure the poor man wouldn’t fall apart at the mention of any more complications.

“Ah, I see, I see. Very well then, I suppose to start with, there’s the matter of your financial inheritance,” Bilbo said, folding his hands on his desk, and Balin had to hide his chuckle at how much the wee man looked like a child behind the massive desk.

“Is there any?” Thorin asked, leaning forward, his face questioning. “I had assumed my father spent whatever funds remained.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Well, that’s not entirely true. Given your grandfather Thror’s investments in several lucrative businesses -including several mining operations, a few ventures in India, and three hotels in London -and my father’s ability to reinvest, the proceeds of those investments stand at about six thousand pounds a year.”

Balin felt his eyebrows rising. “Six… Six thousand?”

“Indeed. Now, after accounting for maintenance on the manor, servants’ wages, and routine expenses, that number should average out to roughly five thousand, six hundred pounds a year, going forward.”

Balin whistled, as Thorin sat back in his chair, looking rather stunned.

“I… I hadn’t thought to inherit anything,” Thorin said slowly. “Especially not such a monumental sum.”

“Yes, well… When your father was alive, he spent approximately one thousand seven hundred pounds a year. As well, now that you’ve returned to claim guardianship of the boys, you shall have access to Fili’s inheritance as well, although that money goes into trust; as it stands, he may draw on a maximum of six hundred pounds a year, with another two thousand, one hundred pounds going into his trust, to be given in lump sum upon reaching eighteen,” Bilbo said, glancing down at the papers on his desk occasionally. “Meaning, as guardian of the boys, and heir of Erebor, you stand to claim approximately six thousand two hundred pounds a year.

“Of course, there’s the lands as well; Erebor, the town of Dale nearby, and Laketown to the east all set on what is -ostensibly -your land. While most of the taxes from those lands goes to the Crown, you do have approximately five hundred pounds remaining after paying your own taxes. Trelleggan -Fili’s estate -doesn’t bring in much, typically a hundred pounds after taxes.”

Thorin blinked, looking over at Balin, who could scarce find words himself. Almost seven thousand pounds a year. It was a princely sum, no mistake, and -despite himself -he couldn’t stop thinking about how a sum like that could be used on the ranch.

“I… what if we were to… sell… Erebor?”

“Sell…  _ Sell  _ Erebor?” Bilbo squeaked, his voice going up at least two octaves. “ _ Sell… _ Thorin, you can’t simply  _ ‘sell’  _ Erebor!”

“Why not? I have no desire for the land; while Trelleggan is Fili’s, and will remain so, if I am to inherit Erebor, why can’t I sell it? I have no desire to remain here permanently.”

“And what of the boys? When you run back to Australia? What will they do then?” Bilbo demanded. “You leave them in the care of the Crown, until Fili reaches his majority? That’s nearly four years away!”

“I… I had assumed that, when I went back home in the spring, they would travel with me,” Thorin said slowly. “I’m sure they have no wish to remain in Erebor any more than I do.”

“Erebor, perhaps not, but, Thorin, you’re talking of taking them to Australia; a journey thousands of miles, to a place they’ve never been, where they would know no one but yourself!” Bilbo said sternly, staring over the desk. “Do you truly think that’s what is best for them?”

Thorin snorted. “As opposed to staying here, in this desolate tomb of a home? Yes, I do think it’s for the better. Let them make a fresh start of things there, without their past hanging over their head like a spectre. If they wish to return to claim their father’s lands, then so be it; I won’t stop them, and I would wish them well.”

“Thorin… Listen to me. You are Lord Durin, of Erebor. In four years, Fili will be Lord Hammersfeld, of Trelleggan. It’s not just the lands, Thorin, but the titles; while Fili’s father was only a recent lord -the Hammersfeld were granted their lordship in 1647 - the Durins have held claim to Erebor and the surrounding lands, and the titles that go with it, since 1072, ever since your ancestor, Durin the First, and his son, Nain, fought alongside William the Conquerer. Nearly eight hundred years, the Durins have held Erebor; you are among the oldest families in England! Hell, your family is older even than the King’s! You cannot simply… ‘sell’ your lordship!”

Thorin waved his hand. “Fine. If I cannot sell the land, nor title, I could leave it under your care; you would be acting lord in my stead, when I return to Australia in the spring.”

“Have you even asked the boys if they wish to go to Australia with you?” Bilbo demanded. “Oh, that’s right: you haven’t. Since they can barely tolerate being in the same room as you! They need familiarity, Thorin, not strangers in a strange land, thousands of miles from home!”

Thorin stood, his face thunderous, and Balin was half tempted to try and shield Bilbo from the coming wrath. But he restrained himself, knowing this conversation had to happen sooner or later, and he preferred the former over the latter.

“You know nothing of those boys, Baggins, or what they went through; you think because you’ve given them a few kind words, and refrained from beating them senseless that you know them? You’re a fool, and you know nothing of them, nor me.”


	15. Discussions Had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay folks, some stuff came up at work, and I'm terribly busy right now. I'm hoping to have the next chapter out by Saturday at least, although it depends on how late I work on Friday. Sunday at the latest though, promise.
> 
> As always, thank you to all who've left kudos, and special thank you's to everyone who has commented; seriously, I don't think I can say enough how much your comments mean to me. They're amazing, and I appreciate you all. :)

Fili rolled over, still huddled under the blanket, but now facing the door rather than the wall. His stomach was roiling around, not enough to make him think he was going to vomit, but enough to be unsettling, as if he might if he tried sitting up, or moved too quickly. His skin practically crawled, like thousands of spiders dancing over his flesh in every direction.

It wasn’t a new feeling; unfortunately, it was an all too familiar one.

He’d been so  _ stupid _ ; he thought that maybe, knowing that Thorin knew what he had went through, he’d feel…  _ different _ . That he’d be able to look at it differently.

But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. He still felt like he was covered in dirt and grime, as if anyone who saw him could see it spread over his skin. He still felt that rage bubbling just below the surface, waiting to lash out at an unsuspecting victim. He still felt cold hands grabbing him, turning him, hurting him, until he -

“Fili?”

He started a bit, before he pulled the covers down far enough to glance out at Thorin, who was standing in his doorway.

“Fili… It’s after lunch. Closer to dinner,” Thorin said, his voice gentle.

“M’not hungry,” Fili muttered, pulling the blankets back over his head.

He heard Thorin sigh, and the sound of his boots walking across the floor, and despite himself, Fili couldn’t help but tense. However, the footsteps stopped a few feet away, and he glanced out again, spotting his uncle sitting in the chair by the edge of the bed, staring at him with a look Fili couldn’t place.

“Fili… Lad, you can’t hide up here forever,” Thorin said after a few minutes, running a hand through his long dark hair. “I know it seems tempting; Christ, but I know how tempting it is. But it will only grow worse. Everything you’re feeling right now… the longer you lay here, the worse those feelings will get.”

He pulled the covers further back, so his entire head was visible, as he stared intently at Thorin.

“Does it ever get any easier?” He asked, ashamed at the hoarseness of his voice as he spoke. “Does it… will it ever get… Will  _ I _ ever get better?”

Thorin sighed, staring at his hands for a moment, before he finally looked back up, meeting Fili’s gaze with a measured one of his own. “Truthfully? It doesn’t get easier; you won’t ever magically be as everyone else. But… You will learn to deal with it better. As time passes… the memories, the… the feelings… you learn to put them aside, and keep moving. You find something that… that you love doing… or people that you care for, and care for you in return… and you will throw yourself into it. You learn to… to keep your mind busy. You will eventually reach a point where… where only when you sleep will the memories and the feelings make themselves known.”

Slowly, Fili sat up, letting the blankets pool around his waist, avoiding Thorin’s eyes as he felt more than heard the tenseness in the room grow. He could feel the tears building in his eyes, so he closed them tightly, trying to hold them in. The silence seemed to stretch on into eternity.

But then, he felt the bed shift, and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop his eyes flying open, scrambling away from the edge of the bed.

“Fili. Look.”

With monumental effort, he forced himself to look in the direction of Thorin’s voice.

His uncle was kneeling next to the edge of the bed, shirtless, and Fili saw his own scars mirrored on Thorin’s chest. Long ropey lines that seemed to wrap around to his back from a belt. Small thin lines from a knife. Bumpy burn scars from whatever Lord Thrain had had handy to heat up.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Fili. We all bear our scars, lad. Yours and mine… well, they’re just more visible than most.”

“It isn’t fair,” Fili whispered, looking away, out towards the window where he could see the trees in the distance. “It isn’t fair.”

“No, Fili, it’s not. But you’ve learned something much sooner than most children do: that life is never fair. Bad things never happen to those who deserve it, but to those who least deserve it. The evil men of the world never prey on the strong, but on those who cannot easily fight back.

“But you can make yourself strong; you can build yourself into someone who is never at anyone’s mercy ever again. Then you can use that strength, that fortitude, to defend those who can’t stand up for themselves.”

“I don’t… I don’t know how to be strong,” Fili admitted, ashamed. “I… I’m angry, but… Anger and strength… they aren’t the same thing.”

Thorin gave him a soft smile. “The fact that you can recognize that, Fili, means you are stronger than you think. And I would argue that you’re already quite strong.”

Fili looked over, unable to keep the disbelief off his face. “How? How am I strong?” He demanded. “Look at me! I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop him! I… I tried, but eventually… Eventually I just gave up. I did what he wanted. I stopped fighting because it was easier!”

Thorin shook his head. “There’s more to strength than physical power, Fili; you protected your brother, and you survived. You survived something most people can’t even begin to imagine, and you walked away. That is strength of will, and believe me when I tell you… physical strength is nothing compared to strength of will. I know you don’t understand it now; it took me many years after leaving this place to fully grasp it. But one day, Fili, you’ll realize just how strong you have been your entire life.”

* * *

Thorin sighed as Fili gave him a side-eyed stare, clearly doubting him. He wasn’t surprised, though: he wouldn’t have believed what he was saying himself, twenty years ago.

“Fili… I want to ask you something. I know this is all… rather sudden, but… “ He paused for a moment, trying to think of how he wanted to say it. “I… I wish us to be upfront, and truthful with each other. And the truth of the matter is… Fili, I have no intention of staying in England. As soon as the winter storms peter out, I’ll be returning to Australia. But… Well, I would very much like it if… if you and Kili decided to… to come with me.”

Fili turned to actually look at him properly. “To Australia?” He asked, his voice devoid of any tone Thorin could identify.

“Aye, Australia. It’s my home. More than this desolate place ever was. I know it’s rather sudden; you don’t have to give me an answer, as I can’t leave before April or May at the earliest, and we’re only in October now. But… It’s a good place, Fili. My ranch sits on fifteen hundred acres; plenty of room for you and your brother to ride to your heart’s content. I could find a tutor, I’m sure, and most of the men who work for me have children of their own you and Kili could play with.”

“But… What of Erebor? Bofur and Bifur, Maggie and Josie… what of Bilbo?”

Thorin hesitated. It was an issue he’d thought might arise, although forethought hadn’t helped him plan any better for it really. “If any wished to come with us, I would pay for them to journey there. As for Erebor… If Bilbo is so damned insistent I can’t sell my own land, I’m sure he can find someone to care for it.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “And in a few years, if you wished to come back and claim your proper title as Lord Hammersfeld, I would pay for that as well.”

Fili looked uncertain for a moment, before he offered, “I can’t even properly remember Trellegan, to be honest. I know Bilbo talks of it often, but… I don’t want to be a Lord. If Kili wants it, he can have it, but whether I stay or go, I have no desire towards a title.”

“Then no one shall force you to claim it,” Thorin said simply. “One thing I’ve learned while living in Australia is that no one can force you to do something unless you allow it. But I’d hoped perhaps that you’d talk to Kili; if one or both of you wishes to stay when I leave, I’m sure Bilbo would be more than happy to stay on as your guardian, and ensure your well-being.”

“I… I’ll talk to him.”

Thorin pulled himself to his feet, feeling an ache building in his knees as he did. “It would be appreciated. Of more pressing concern, however… I would appreciate it more so if you would get dressed, and join us downstairs for an early dinner. I’m sure Kili would enjoy it as well.” When Fili looked at him side-eyed again, Thorin folded his arms across his chest. “I’m responsible for your well-being, for the time being, and sitting up here in your room, with only your thoughts for company most certainly isn’t in your best interests.”

Fili held his gaze for a few seconds, before he sighed, grabbing his shirt off the edge of the bed, and slipping it on. “Alright. Alright, I’ll… I’ll come down, although I was honest when I said I’m not hungry,” He added, frowning a bit as he stood. “I don’t know if I could keep anything down.”

Thorin nodded, unwilling to argue the point, happy that he’d given in so easily. “That’s perfectly fine. Although, I wish you would still join us at the table. I wished to discuss something with you and your brother,” He said conversationally as they made their way down the hall.

“Of Australia?”

“No, I think I’ll leave that to you. I had meant to tell both of you at the same time, but if you’d rather know…” He trailed off, glancing over at Fili.

“I… is it an important sort of discussion?”

“To you and Kili, I imagine, yes, although nothing drastic, I promise.”

Fili hesitated for a moment, clearly thinking, before finally shaking his head. “I should probably wait; it’s not like it’ll be a long time.”

Thorin smiled as they walked down the stairs. “No. Not long at all.”


	16. Dinner and Tutors

Fili wasn’t sure what had happened.

Oh, sure, he knew that Thorin understood him. However, they’d established that last night, and he’d still felt like he was warmed over hell earlier that morning.

But somehow, he felt… lighter, walking towards the dining room with Thorin. He could still feel the filth on his skin, the hopeless desperation in his chest, but it was… distant. More distant than it had been in years, in fact.

Actually… He stopped; it was rather abruptly, he had to admit, as Thorin took a few moments to follow suit, looking back at him quizzically, merely a few feet from the dining room door.

“Is everything alright?”

“I… I have something… Something to ask you. If it’s not too… too forward,” Fili said, suddenly awkward and unsure of how his question would be taken.

Thorin frowned a bit, his head tilted to one side. “I can’t make any promises until I know what the request is, but I promise I won’t be angry.”

Fili took a deep breath, accepting that the response was probably the best he would get. “Mum… She never really talked about you, except when… Sometimes, when her and Uncle Frerin would… would do our hair. They always said that… that you were very good at… At doing braids in the Old Style,” He finished quickly, suddenly unable to look Thorin in the eye. “I… Never mind, I… I was being foolish, I can’t imagine -”

“I would be honored, Fili,” Thorin said, and Fili looked up, surprised to see no anger or disappointment in his uncle’s face. “I will warn you that it’s been years since I’ve done anyone’s hair but my own, but… I’m sure if you give me a few practice attempts, I’ll be able to do anything you want.”

“And Kili’s?” Fili asked, before he could stop himself.

“Of course, if Kili wishes me to do so,” Thorin said with a solemn nod. “But if we delay any longer, I worry he might just eat the table.”

Fili blinked for a moment, uncomprehending, before he realized what Thorin was talking about. They had delayed a bit, more so with Fili’s request, and Kili wasn’t one for patience, or waiting for food. So he nodded quickly, and Thorin opened the door to the dining room, motioning for Fili to go first.

Almost before he was through the door, a mass of dark hair had attached itself to him, Kili’s small arms wrapping around his waist tight enough that it nearly hurt. But Fili ignored the pressure, and instead returned Kili’s hug with a tight one of his own, leaning down until his head rested on Kili’s.

“I’m sorry, brother,” He whispered. “I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

Kili didn’t respond, only tightening his grip for a moment, before pulling away. But he held Fili’s hand in a crushing grip, tugging him along behind him towards the table, where Bilbo and Thorin’s friend Balin sat.

Fili took a deep breath as he came to a stop by his chair, Kili still holding his hand. “I apologize for our tardiness; I… had something to ask Thorin. Apologies.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright, Fili; quite alright indeed,” Bilbo said, giving him a smile. “Balin was just regaling us with tales of his and Thorin’s adventures in the colonies.”

Fili began to respond, before he felt Kili’s grip on his hand tighten; when he glanced over at his little brother, he was met with a frown, and a pointed look at Fili’s chair, and then the food on the table Biting back his chuckle, Fili sat, seeing Thorin do the same next to Balin.

As everyone else started to eat, filling their plates, Thorin set his elbows on the table, glancing first at Fili and Kili, then Bilbo, before he spoke.

“I had something I wished to speak to you boys about,” He started. “I had thought about our conversation during our ride, and I think it would do both of you well if I arranged to have a tutor brought. Not every day, certainly,” He added, waving a hand in Bilbo’s general direction, and Fili noticed that Bilbo had started to frown. “I thought to start with, a few hours a day, perhaps once or twice a week. If everything went well, and you boys were enjoying yourselves, we could arrange an acceptable schedule as the matter unfolds. I would like to hear both of your opinions on the matter.”

Fili hesitated; he knew Bilbo didn’t like the idea, that he was worried about Fili’s temper, and another incident like the one at the baker’s, or finding one who would deal with Kili’s -what Bilbo called- ‘selective muteness’ without issue. He’d said multiple times that, while he believed the boys needed an education, that they needed to ‘wait until the right time’ and ‘not rush things’.

But to have a  _ tutor _ ; to actually be able to learn… He stopped that train of thought quickly, unwilling to allow himself any false hope.

“I… if Bilbo is -” He started, but Thorin waved his hand again, cutting him off.

“I didn’t ask what Bilbo wanted,” He said, his voice firm. “I asked what you and Kili want. What I want, what Bilbo wants, hell, what society wants, is incidental, and unimportant to me at the moment. If you are both content with the knowledge you have, or if you wish to continue your education in a more hands-on approach, then that is what you shall do. If you wish to have a tutor, I shall arrange for interviews to start as soon as possible. I don’t need an answer immediately, but I want you both to know that the option is there, if you wish to avail yourselves of it. But the choice, whatever it may be, is entirely up to you.”

Apparently, even Kili had picked up on the tenseness, the discord between Thorin and Bilbo; he was staring between the two of them, doing his best to hide a nervous look, before he looked back at Fili, squeezing his hand again. When Fili caught his eyes, though, he saw a faint glimmer of hope there.

“I… if it would be alright with everyone… I think that would be… That is to say, I -we -would… Yes,” He finally settled on, unable to convey how much he wanted it, knowing it wouldn’t be as easy as all that.

Thorin nodded. “Good. Then it’s settled. While I arrange interviews, Balin here has offered to substitute as a stand-in; he’s very well learned himself, in maths and sciences, and he’s rather well-read on many subjects as well. If that would be alright with both of you.”

Fili glanced over at Balin, who gave him a small smile, although it was an encouraging one. So Fili looked down at Kili, and although he still had a small frown on his face, Kili nodded.

“I think that would be agreeable.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll have some of the servants clear out a room here on the main level to use, and I’m sure Bilbo and I can get an advertisement written up tonight, and sent out tomorrow,” Thorin said, nodding his head firmly.

* * *

  
  


Bilbo had excused himself to his office, immediately after everyone was finished with supper; he had tried to keep his displeasure about the situation to himself, although he was sure that Fili, at the very least, had picked up on it.

But he hadn’t been able to keep up the facade, excusing himself as soon as it was polite to do so, stating that he had paperwork to do. As soon as he’d found himself in his study, he’d let out a quiet curse, surprising even himself with its vehemence.

Thorin simply didn’t understand. Both boys were so fragile, even Fili, as angry and tough as he presented himself. A wrong word, a raised voice, or even a disappointing stare would be enough to damage the lads’ fragile self-esteem.

That wasn’t even mentioning, of course, that bringing in an outsider would mean explaining exactly  _ why  _ both the boys were so delicate,  _ why  _ they needed a soft hand as opposed to a firm one. Meaning more people to know what they’d both gone through, more people that one or both the boys would view as ‘looking down’ at them- regardless of whether or not whatever tutor they found even entertained such a notion.

He dropped into his chair heavily, scrubbing at his face with his hands. More than anything, he wanted the chance for the boys to move beyond Thrain; to be able to have people view them as normal, healthy human beings. To not look at them as something to be pitied.

Of course, the boys were deserving of that pity; no doubt about that, Bilbo didn’t think anyone would argue that. But he wanted that chance for them to be normal. To not have everyone and their grandmother discussing ‘those odd Durin boys’ from Erebor to London.

That wasn’t even to mention, he wasn’t entirely sure how the boys would take to having a schedule; he’d given them a very loose guideline, mostly revolving around mealtimes, but otherwise he’d kept any sense of routine to a minimum. They’d spent their lives being domineered by an overbearing mad man, unable to do things that other boys did, such as playing outside when they pleased, or riding whenever they desired.

He’d tried to be fair with both of them; as long as they told him (or let him know in some way, in Kili’s case) where they were going, and gave an approximate time of when they’d be back, he tried not to stifle them. To let them have their freedom, to try and have the childish adventures that they hadn’t been allowed while Thrain was alive.

But now Thorin wanted to put them back on a schedule, the confounded man. Surely he must have remembered what it was like growing up with his father; how stifling and controlling the man was.

There was nothing for it, however. Thorin had taken the matter out of Bilbo’s hands entirely, bypassing him in favor of allowing the children to decide, without even explaining the entirety of the consequences such a massive shift would make.

He startled a bit when he heard the tapping on his door. He pulled himself together enough to give a strangled, “Come in.”

Balin peered into the room, giving Bilbo a smile. “Do you mind if we chat for a moment?”

Bilbo closed his eyes, just for a second, pulling himself back under control, before he nodded. “Of course. Please come in, Balin. Have a seat.”

Balin did so, sitting down and making himself comfortable as he peered over the desk at Bilbo.

“I wanted to ask why you’re so opposed to the wee lads having a tutor.” When Bilbo opened his mouth to explain himself, Balin held up a hand to stop him. “It was clear on your face, Bilbo, how unhappy you were at Fili’s decision. I’m sure even the wee one picked up on it.”

Bilbo frowned before he could stop himself. “Well… Yes, I suppose you are very forward in the colonies, aren’t you?” He muttered, before speaking in a normal tone. “It’s not that I’m opposed to the boys having a tutor, Balin. But there are… other considerations. Things Thorin hasn’t considered, things that will have a much larger impact than just ‘hiring a tutor’.”

Balin nodded slowly, sitting back in the chair, motioning for Bilbo to go on.

“Well… Well, there’s several facets to it, Balin. Several indeed.”

“And I’m waiting to hear them,” Balin retorted with a slight snort. “You and Thorin are so at odds over the bairns right now, you’re clearly not going to discuss it with each other. So here I am. Let’s hear it. You tell me what your concerns are, and I will try to explain where I believe Thorin is coming from. Then, in turn, I’ll do the same for Thorin.”

Bilbo sat back in his own chair, taking a moment to organize his thoughts. “Alright. Yes, well, for starters, there’s the matter of Kili not speaking. How do you imagine that will go over? How is he to discuss problems with a tutor, to ask questions about things he can’t understand? How are we to know if he’s grasped a problem, or a concept, if we can’t even ask him?”

Balin nodded. “That is a justified concern; however, I would like to point out that the wee one seems more than capable of communicating, even without speaking. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be a challenge,” He admitted, “But not entirely impossible either.”

“Very well. There’s the matter of where the boys are, educationally speaking. From what Fili has explained, Dis taught him how to read, but I’ve simply no idea of anything beyond that. Josie has told me, in private, that she’s almost certain that Kili is incapable of reading at all. So we’ll need to find a tutor who is capable of teaching both the boys, at whatever their various levels of comprehension are. So there is the difficulty of finding a tutor who can meet the boys’ needs.”

Balin shrugged, waving his hand a bit. “I would say that is less of a ‘concern’ and more that it will take time to find a suitable match. As my father always said, ‘the difficulty of a task doesn’t negate its necessity.”

Bilbo struggled to keep from snapping out a retort, refraining himself to a frown. He wanted to argue that it wasn’t a necessity, but he knew that he hadn’t yet proved his point enough to argue that. So he continued on, “There is, of course, the boys’ emotional needs as well. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Kili is incredibly frightened of strangers, and Fili… well, I rather think he says the things he does to see how much it will take for someone to react as Lord Thrain would.”

Balin sighed. “I had noticed that, although I don’t agree with the reasoning. If I may?” When Bilbo nodded for him to continue, he said, “I don’t believe the boy is pushing for a reaction; I believe he’s pushing to keep the attention focused on himself. From what Thorin has told me, what you’ve said, and my own observations, I do believe the young man is simply trying to keep anyone from paying too much attention to his younger brother. If he says something horrifically rude, or unsettling, all the focus is on him, while Kili is allowed to fade into the background.

“After all, Bilbo, you’ve said it yourself: Kili talks freely enough to Fili, when they think no one is listening. We know that the lad is capable of speaking; Bofur said that he used to speak, and just suddenly stopped. That makes it remarkably unlikely that there is a physical, or internal mental issue. Why did he stop speaking so suddenly? What could make him stop? Perhaps, because his brother told him not to.”

Bilbo simply stared, both in amazement and horror, for what seemed like ages. Finally, he managed to speak again.

“I… I hadn’t even considered… “

“Exactly. And given that the wee one seems happy enough, away from the presence of Fili, I would say that he himself is far more trusting. While he hasn’t been overly friendly towards Thorin or myself, I’ve noticed that, when Fili is more relaxed, so is Kili. As if he knows he doesn’t have to worry about Fili becoming upset. I would wager a year’s wages on Fili having something to do with why Kili is mute, although I doubt Fili has done so with any malicious intent.”

Bilbo lowered his head into his hands, feeling devastation crushing him as a physical weight. “I… Balin, I’m… I must say I’m rather ashamed of myself,” He said, unable to make his voice rise above a whisper. “I’ve known them most of their lives, and… I didn’t see that. To think that you, a complete stranger, should see what I couldn’t…”

“I believe it’s because I am a stranger that I’m able to see it,” Balin said comfortingly. “I am an outsider, with no real emotional stake in the outcome. You and Thorin are both unable to look at either boy objectively. Not to mention, you must be under a terrible amount of stress, having to deal with all this. To be a young man, suddenly thrust into the role of caregiver for two troubled lads, one nearly a man himself?” Balin shook his head. “There’s no shame to be had here, Bilbo. None at all. While you and Thorin might not see eye to eye on this issue, it’s because neither of you understand the other; not because of any failure to care for the boys. Now then. What are your other reasons?”

Bilbo blinked a few times, trying to force his mind back to the previous conversation. Then he took a few more minutes, trying to work up a way of saying what he thought with some amount of delicacy. Finally, however, he sighed, and gave up on delicate. “The truth of the matter is… The largest reason I don’t wish to invite an outsider to Erebor is because then the world will learn what has happened to them. We hire a tutor, the tutor realizes exactly how fragile, how close to breaking, Fili and Kili truly are. A thing like that… The gossip will spread for years,” He said, closing his eyes just for a moment, imagining the devastation. “It will be the talk of all the high society, of how damaged the Durin boys are.

“Any chance they might one day have, of making friends, of finding wives, becoming businessmen… all of it would be gone in a flash. They would never have a normal life; for the rest of their days, everyone would stare at them and whisper, ‘those are those Durin boys; haven’t you heard how odd they are?’. God help us all if they ever actually learned any details of the going-ons in this house,” He finished quietly. “They wouldn’t be accepted anywhere. They would never be able to outrun the pitying looks, the knowing stares, the barely-veiled insults.”

Balin appeared to ponder on that for a few moments, before nodding. “That is completely understandable. And I agree with you, that is something that should be avoided. Growing in New Zealand, I have little understanding of the rules of high society, and I doubt Thorin thinks on it overly much. Very well then.” He pushed himself to his feet, and Bilbo found himself doing the same, very much confused.

“Very… well then, what?” He asked.

“If that is what you believe would happen, I shall teach the boys as best I’m able until I leave for Australia again. If the bairns wish to travel with us, I shall teach them until we find them a tutor there. I’ll inform Thorin.”

Bilbo found himself staring at Balin’s back, before the man exited the room, closing the door behind him.


	17. Of Braids and Songs

Kili looked terribly excited, practically jumping up and down with glee, when Fili had told him that Thorin would do their hair. After Fili’s disastrous attempts to copy the numerous styles their mother and Uncle Frerin had been able to do with ease, Kili had outright refused to let Fili touch his hair anymore.

Which had… hurt, although Fili could understand it; the oil Maggie had used to undo Fili’s disastrous mess had left Kili smelling of fish for days afterwards.

But it had hurt nonetheless; it’d been one small remnant of their mother, one thing Fili had tried to hold on to, but he’d been horrifically incapable of doing it.

So Fili could understand Kili’s excitement, and even smile a bit at it. However… he couldn’t help but be nervous. The itching under his skin had started small, after they’d finished dinner, and Thorin had said he would be up shortly to do their hair. But as the time passed, the minor itching had turned into full blown stinging, as if thousands of spiders were climbing over his skin and biting him with every step. The more he thought about it -Thorin would be touching him, touching his hair -the worse the itching became, until he physically sat on his hands to stop himself from scratching himself.

When Thorin knocked on the door, calling out “Boys?” Fili had practically jumped out of his skin. But he managed a choked, “It’s unlocked.”

Thorin stepped into the room, and immediately frowned as he looked at Fili. “Are you sure about this?” He asked quietly, not moving further in. “I will be fine if you’d rather not. Or I can just do Kili’s hair, if he wishes; there’s no need for me to do both of you unless you would like me to.”

Fili forced himself to take several breathes, trying to calm his heart, which had started pounding so loud he would swear he could actually physically hear it. He opened his eyes -unsure of when he’d closed them -and forced himself to nod.

“No, I… I want to,” He said, proud of how his voice only sounded a bit strangled and hoarse. “I do.”

Thorin nodded, and stepped in a bit more, pulling out a few small black ribbons and holding them out. “I didn’t know if you had any, so I brought the ones I use. Kili,” He turned towards Kili, who was practically glowing at that point. “Would you like to start?”

Kili nodded his head so hard that -for a moment -Fili forgot how nervous he was, struggling not to laugh. When he glanced over at Thorin, he could see that his uncle was doing the same, a smile on his face.

“Alright, well, come sit down here then,” Thorin said, motioning towards a spot on the floor. When Kili sat, Thorin sat behind him, setting down the hair ribbons and a hairbrush next to him. “Is there anything particular you’d like, Kili?”

Kili looked over at Fili, a look of unsurety on his face, and it took Fili a moment to understand. He shook his head, waving his hand as he sat down in the chair next to the fireplace.

“I… braids?” Kili said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, and more than a bit unsure. “I… Mum used to… “He looked over at Fili, his eyes pleading. “I… What she did for Uncle Frerin?”

Fili thought back, and finally nodded. “She used to do two braids, in the middle? Then she’d pull them towards the back, and braid them together down the back.”

“Ah,” Thorin said, luckily able to understand Fili’s vague description, the best he could force his brain to come up with. Thorin picked up the hairbrush, and started separating out different pieces of Kili’s hair with surprising dexterity, his fingers moving quickly. “Do you boys know why we Durins are so particular about our hair? Why it’s a tradition for us to keep our hair so long, and how we learned the intricate braids?”

“Mum said… it was because of… somebody named Norman,” Kili said unsurely.

While Kili couldn’t see Thorin’s smile, sitting in front of him as he was, Fili could, and he returned it with a small one of his own.

“Close, Kili. Or… at least in the vicinity. You see, our ancestor, Durin the First, came to England with  William the Conquerer. William was a Norman man who conquered in England almost eight hundred years ago, and our ancestor fought by his side.

“But Durin wasn’t a Norman; Durin was from the Northern Lands; a viking raider. According to our family’s history, Durin and his son Nain set themselves apart from the Normans by the braids they did in their hair and beards…”

Fili listened to the soothing sound of Thorin’s voice, as he described to Kili why their family had kept their ways as long as they had, different from other families. Eventually, he found himself relaxing, the itch slowly fading the longer Thorin spoke.

Mum had told them the story before, of course; more romanticized than the one Thorin told, but similar enough for Fili to recognize it. He was able to listen, while not-listening at the same time, letting himself drift away, staring at the roaring fireplace.

* * *

Thorin spoke quietly, moving with ease from tales of Durin and his son Nain, to other ancestors and their deeds as he braided Kili’s smooth hair. The motion was… soothing; when he was younger, he, Dis, and Frerin would hide downstairs in the kitchen, and braid each other’s hair, as their mother had done while she still lived. It’d been almost a ritual between them, after a difficult night with their father.

But Thorin had gradually been involved less and less in the activity, as his father occupied more and more of his nights, for longer and longer periods. After he’d fled to Australia, he’d kept his own hair done as best he could, although the designs had been simplistic. But it’d been something he’d done out of habit, not for any sort of enjoyment; doing his own was a chore, rather than a pleasure.

He found himself enjoying the easy task, the repetitive motions as he allowed his fingers to move under their own volition. It brought back happy memories, and he found himself doing intricate knots and weaves as he went, allowing himself to simply enjoy himself. At least, until he glanced up, and looked at Fili.

The boy was staring at the fireplace, his face slack, and almost… blank. As if Fili was no longer there, merely a shell of his body. Thorin kept speaking, moving on to stories of his time in Australia, wondering if he should say something. However, he finally finished Kili’s hair, and Kili immediately stood, moving over towards his brother with surprising haste, his face concerned.

Despite his actions, Kili didn’t immediately move to touch Fili, instead kneeling in front of him, but carefully keeping his distance.

“Kili?” Thorin asked quietly, not moving from where he sat on the floor.

Kili shook his head, putting a finger to his lips sternly, but not actually looking at Thorin. He kept staring at his brother, moving his head around, as if trying to catch Fili’s eyes. After a few minutes -minutes that seemed like hours to Thorin -Fili blinked a few times, before slowly shaking his head.

“It looks wonderful, brother,” He said, his voice gradually gaining in strength. “Thorin did an excellent job.”

Kili patted Fili’s knee, lightly, and Thorin watched as Fili reached out to squeeze his brother’s hand.

“Your turn,” Kili said softly, using Fili’s grip on his hand to tug his brother out of the chair. “C’mon.”

Fili moved slowly, as if moving under water, his face almost worryingly blank, but he did sit down, his back to Thorin.

“If you don’t wish to do this -”

“It’s fine,” Fili said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, if you’re sure, nephew,” Thorin said after a moment, picking up the brush. “Is there anything particular you would like?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

Thorin wasn’t able to keep the frown from his face, disliking Fili’s words and tone, his instincts telling him something was terribly wrong. But after a moment, unsure of what else to do, he began parting Fili’s hair.

Having run out of stories of ancestral deeds, he began humming quietly, more to fill the worryingly sick silence building than anything else. But Fili started a bit under his hands, tilting his head a bit towards Thorin.

“What is that?” He asked, and Thorin was pleased to hear some emotion in the boy’s voice. “That song.”

“It’s one my mother used to sing to us children. Have you heard it before?”

“Mum used to hum it when she was upset,” Kili said quietly. “Does… does it have words?”

“It does,” Thorin said solemnly. “Although I don’t fancy myself a very good singer, I could teach you the words.”

“Please,” Fili said softly, surprising Thorin. But he nodded, and began to softly sing.

“Where now are the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Where now is the helm and the hauberk and the bright hair flowing? Where is the hand on the lyre string, and the red fire glowing?”

“What is it about?” Kili asked, when Thorin stopped to take a breath. He decided not to mention that the song wasn’t anywhere near over, and instead just smiled.

“It’s said that Nain created it himself, after his father died. He was a foreigner, even amongst foreigners. Durin and Nain were loyal to William, as William had saved Durin’s life during a battle. Because of that loyalty, William named Durin as his right hand in battle. They loved William, to be sure… but it doesn’t change that they were strangers even amongst the strangers they came with. When his father died… Nain was the only one of his people left here in England.”

“He was lonely,” Fili said quietly.

“Exactly so,” Thorin replied, parting another section of Fili’s hair back.

“I wonder why he stayed, if he was so lonely.”

“Because he had a wife and three sons here. He’d spent most of his life here.”

Kili frowned at Thorin over Fili’s shoulder. “Then how was he lonely?” He asked, confusion clear in his voice. “He had people?”

Thorin hesitated, unsure of how to answer in a way that Kili would understand. But, again to his surprise, Fili responded.

“You could be standing in a room full of people, Kili… and if you’re the only one who is different… you’ll be more alone than if you were by yourself.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapter, but work is freaking crazy right now. I'm hoping to have another chapter out on Monday if everything goes well.

Thorin was making his way back to his rooms, having bid the boys good night, when he spotted Balin, waiting just outside his door.

“Oakenshield. Where’ve you been?” He asked curiously, pushing away from the wall, and following Thorin inside his room.

“Doing the boys’ hair,” Thorin said as he sat down in the chair, motioning Balin to sit in the other one as he pulled off his boots. “Is something the matter?”

Balin shook his head. “Not as such. However, I was just talking to Bilbo about a tutor for the boys, and he brought up some very valid concerns.”

Because it was Balin, who had been by his side through thick and thin for more than a decade, Thorin bit back his sharp retort to that. However, he knew he couldn’t hide his frown, so he made no attempts to.

“I’m not entirely sure why Bilbo thinks it’s his decision whether or not the boys get a formal education, but I’m sure he gave you a perfectly good explanation,” He said rather sourly.

“He did, in fact,” Balin said serenely, his voice as calm and steady as ever. “Several good ones. And seeing as how he is too polite to tell you, and you’re too stubborn to ask, I decided to mediate. He brought up several matters that seemed to be of concern, and I told him I would discuss it with you.”

“Fine,” Thorin bit out through gritted teeth. “But they’d better be damned good.”

“They are. Most of them are more a matter of inconvenience, or extra work, but even he admitted these could be worked around. Kili’s muteness, Fili’s distrust of strangers, the fact that neither boy has had a formal education before, so lessons would probably have to be specially tailored towards each boy individually. These are all concerns, but ones that can be dealt with.

“However, Bilbo’s largest concern, is what the boys’ lives would be like, in the future, were word of the going-ons in this house were to become public knowledge,” Balin finished simply.

Thorin scoffed. “You think the boys should be concerned with society’s opinion of them? That they should live their lives in secret, so that no one will discuss them?” He asked, unable to keep the disdain from his voice.

“I think you should consider what kind of life they will lead, should knowledge of their grandfather’s treatment of them become public knowledge, yes,” Balin said, giving Thorin a frown. “When everyone in London speaks of how the Durin boys were beaten senseless by their grandfather; what kind of men will they grow up to be, they’ll ask. How could they let that happen, they’ll ask. I wouldn’t let my sons spend time with them, or my daughters to court them, they’ll say,” He finished softly. “While I will readily admit I’m not terribly familiar with the upper class, I can’t say that I disagree with Bilbo’s assessment. Particularly when -in this instance -I’d say he would know better than either of us.”

“It’s not their fault,” Thorin snapped, throwing his boots across the room as he stood, glaring down at Balin. “They’ve done nothing wrong; their entire life, they’ve been punished for things outside of their control. They’ve suffered far worse than you or Bilbo could ever imagine, and I won’t let them suffer further because Bilbo is worried what people might think!”

“No one is saying it’s their fault, you damned fool!” Balin swore, standing himself. “But people will talk; everyone will know what your father did to those children! You think that won’t be a ‘punishment for things outside of their control’? You think they won’t ‘suffer’ when everyone in England is talking about them?”

“They want to learn, Balin! Learn to read, learn history, or science! You both saw how excited Fili was when I told them at dinner! You wish me to deny them that?”

Thorin watched as Balin took a few deep breaths, clearly trying to keep his temper under control -something Thorin could sympathize with, as he was struggling with that himself.

“Thorin… I understand why this is so important to you,” Balin said after a few moments. “I truly do. And no one is saying that the boys shouldn’t learn; I said I would teach them until we could find someone suitable, and I will, even if that means until we return to Australia. This isn’t a matter of ‘we find a tutor, or they never learn’. I will gladly teach them until we leave; perhaps I’m not the most learned man. I don’t speak five languages, nor do I know advanced maths, but I do know many things. Things they will benefit from,” He finished softly. “Then once we are back home, we can search for a tutor there for them, if they still wish to further their learning.”

Thorin held his glare for a few seconds, before he flopped himself back in his chair, scrubbing his face with one hand.

“I… I’m sorry, Balin; you didn’t deserve my temper,” He said after a moment. “I just… I want them to have a normal life. Or as normal a life as possible,” He added softly.

Balin sat back down as well. “I know you do, Oakenshield. And it’s commendable, it truly is. But if everyone and their grandmother is discussing the horrors they lived through, if everyone knows… They’ll never be able to move on. They’ll always live under the shadow of your father, no matter how far they run.”

* * *

  
  


Bilbo was balancing the accounts, a soothing, almost-mindless task that calmed his nerves, when there was a quiet, but firm rap on the door.

“Yes? Come in,” He called out. A moment later, Thorin appeared in his study.

“Do you have a moment?”

“Yes, of course. Please,” He said, motioning to the chair.

Thorin did so, although he looked rather uncomfortable as he sat. “I’ve just come from talking with Balin; I didn’t expect you to still be awake.”

Bilbo waved his hand over the accounting books in front of him. “I find when I’m upset, or restless, or trying to think, going over the budgets soothes me.”

“I… apologize, if I upset you.”

Bilbo could feel his eyebrows creeping up. Thorin sounded as if someone was pulling his teeth, practically grinding out the words as he spoke.

“I’ve been told I… did not consider all the potential outcomes, from arranging a tutor for the boys. After careful thought, I realized that you and Balin are right.” Thorin quickly held up a hand, stalling Bilbo’s words. “However, I won’t deny the boys their opportunity. Particularly if they decide to stay here in England; being unable to read alone would make their lives incredibly difficult, much less trying to fit in with their peer group without a basic education. While Balin is knowledgeable in many areas, he simply cannot give the boys the education they need to succeed should they choose to remain here.”

Bilbo nodded cautiously. “I can agree with that, although I’ll admit I’m not sure of an alternative.”

“When I was a boy, there used to be an elderly gentleman who lived near Dale. Everyone said he was eccentric, but… he was very kind to me and my siblings, growing up. An astronomer by trade, he had a rather sizable inheritance from an uncle or some such, and he’d spent most of his life studying for the sake of studying. I thought perhaps we could speak to him, and make him an offer.”

Bilbo frowned in consternation. “Greyhame? The old nutter?”

“I can assure you that, at least when I knew him, his mind was quite sharp, if perhaps a bit… odd. I thought that perhaps we -you and I -could visit him tomorrow, and speak to him. We can ascertain if he’s a suitable match for our needs. After all, if he is learned, and we can trust him with the boys, we can be certain he won’t go spreading any secrets about. If he did, who would believe him anyways?” Thorin said with a shrug. “Even when I was a youth, many thought him odd.”

Bilbo sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him as he thought. “Yes, I… I suppose that could work. If he is as well-educated as you presume him to be,” He added. “I was unaware you’d interacted with the man. Frerin never spoke of him.”

As soon as he’d spoke, Bilbo regretted his words. Thorin’s blue eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening. “I’m not entirely sure why my brother would mention it to you,” He said, his voice casual in a way that belied his look. “He wasn’t exactly a ‘close friend’, but we were acquaintances. Dis, in particular, enjoyed his company, although our visits with him were kept secret; if we’d been discovered visiting him, Thrain’s reaction would have been… poor,” He finished quietly. 

“Well… Well, if it’s something you believe would be a safe alternative to a tutor, by all means, we shall visit him tomorrow. Although I’ll warn you… If I have any doubts about his integrity -any at all! -I shall veto the idea. I won’t have the boys in harm’s way.”

Thorin nodded seriously. “In that, Bilbo, we are in agreeance. The boys’ safety and well-being is of the utmost importance. Even if we disagree on how to handle certain things, I’m sure we can both acknowledge that it is out of a place of concern, rather than cruelty or indifference.”


	19. Chapter 19

Bilbo couldn’t help but stare at Thorin, who was busy staring out the window, his chin propped up on his fist, watching the countryside roll by.

He looked… pensive. Yes, perhaps that was the best word for it. Or maybe ‘brooding’, as if he had so much on his mind that he couldn’t focus on the ‘now’. Which was, of course, entirely understandable; the whole situation -with Lord Durin, the boys, Erebor, England, and all that -was enough to fill anyone’s plate with leftovers.

However, Bilbo couldn’t help but notice that, even while brooding, Thorin still looked more regal, and lordly than any man he’d ever seen. Something about him announced that he was a good man, a hard-working man, willing to do whatever it took to accomplish his goals.

Which was exactly how Frerin and Dis had always described him, the few times they spoke of him. It was exactly how Bilbo remembered him, the few times they’d interacted before he’d left for the colonies. As if nothing in the world could keep him from getting back up again.

In Bilbo’s opinion, that was a better trait than those who never fell to begin with; he would know, as someone who had glided through life with little upsets or difficulties, he’d struggled the first time he’d failed. When he’d taken over his father’s duties as solicitor, and begun spending significant amounts of time at the manner, he’d found himself at his wits end; being unable to assist Frerin, Dis, or the boys in any significant way had left him unable to sleep, barely able to function properly. His failures had eaten at him for days, weeks, and months, before he’d been able to handle the situation even remotely well.

He’d never failed before; he’d never been helpless at something, and when he had started failing, when he had been helpless, he hadn’t known how to deal with it.

Thorin, however, had always been the type of person to fall, then pull himself back up. He never let anything stop him from getting back up again.

Frerin had told him how often Thorin had incurred their father’s wrath to stand up for his siblings. How there were times when Thorin would still be recovering from the previous incident when he would throw himself into the next. The only time Bilbo had heard of Thorin running away from his problems was when he left for Australia.

Something that had been nearly unavoidable. Of course, Thorin could have stayed, but of the several possible outcomes if he had, none of them ended any better than where they currently were. He’d left Frerin and Dis behind, of course, which Bilbo was sure ate at the man considerably, but every alternative had ended with Thorin dead, or standing trial, which would’ve left him facing the hangman’s noose anyways.

“Something you’d like to say?”

Bilbo started, nearly jumping out of his skin at Thorin’s voice. He realized belatedly that he’d been staring, rather rudely, while he was lost in his train of thought.

“Um, no,” He said quickly, grabbing at his handkerchief, and dabbing it against his brow, despite the fact that it wasn’t hot in the slightest. “I was just thinking.”

“Of?” Thorin’s deep voice resonated through the coach, and his blue eyes were locked on Bilbo in a way that made him uncomfortable, as if he was a child at school who’d been caught passing notes.

“Uh, well… yes, you see, I was just thinking… of the boys. Of their education. Of how this will all resolve itself, in the long term foreseeable future,” He said slowly. While it wasn’t exactly true, it wasn’t false either: it was something he’d been thinking of often lately.

But Thorin accepted his words for what they were; he nodded, folding his hands across his knees. “I understand; I’ve been thinking of it often myself. They’re both well beyond the age when children typically start their education. Fili seems to have done well, teaching himself, but Kili…” His voice trailed off for a moment, a frown forming on his face, before he continued, “Maggie told me that her granddaughter, Josie, believes Kili is illiterate, which would fit in with what I’ve seen.”

“Frerin said you couldn’t read either.” As soon as he’d said the words, Bilbo regretted it, snapping his jaw shut so quickly he briefly worried that he’d injured his teeth. Thorin’s face went from thoughtful, to the briefest flash of hurt, before settling on a blank, neutral expression.

“I’m not sure as that’s any of your business,” He said, an edge of strain in his voice. “Frerin shouldn’t have spoken to you of family matters. Much less of assumptions.”

“Well… well, I… Frerin and I were… very close. After you left, he had no one he could… he could talk to, no one to speak to of his troubles,” Bilbo said quickly. “I’m sure he had no ill intentions. You must remember, Thorin, that I was Frerin’s only friend; he talked to me of his troubles, what he was thinking… We were quite close.”

“Regardless. It was none of Frerin’s concern. I’m quite capable of managing my affairs. And we were speaking of Kili. We must determine if he simply didn’t have proper instruction, or if he’s incapable.”

Bilbo barely hid his chuckle, Thorin proving Bilbo’s point about getting himself back up. “Well, I would say, since Fili is quite the reader, it would be more logical to assume that Kili is incapable, rather than a poor student.”

It was Thorin’s turn to start, surprise written on his face. “Excuse me? I’m not implying anything about his ambitions, rather stating that he might not have had ample opportunity. Fili is, after all, four years older; my sister might have had more time to teach Fili. Kili would’ve been… six? Six and a half, at most, when Dis died. Versus his brother, who would’ve been ten. Kili doesn’t strike me as the lazy sort in any way,” Thorin said firmly. “Not at all.”

“Of course. Of course,” Bilbo said placatingly. “I apologize for my assumption. Oh, there we are. Grayhame Manor.”

Thorin’s head turned, to look out the window, a small smile appearing on his face. “The gardens are just as beautiful as I remember,” He said quietly, as the carriage pulled up in front of the small manor house. “Dis learned most of her gardening as a child from Mr. Grayhame.”

Bilbo nodded as they exited, and started their way up the steps. “He’s quite well-known around Dale for his botanical abilities; I do believe that’s the reason the villagers don’t mind his eccentricities as much as they might otherwise. He’s always happy to share his knowledge.” He paused as Thorin knocked on the door, before giving Thorin a sheepish look. “Again, I find myself owing an apology; I should’ve considered Mr. Grayhame.”

“No apologies necessary, Bilbo; I hadn’t considered it until I’d spoken to Balin about trying to find a suitable educator who wasn’t a member of the upper class,” Thorin said with a hand wave.

Bilbo began to speak, when he heard a voice from inside the house.

“Coming, coming! A moment, these bones don’t move as fast as they -” The door swung open, and a tall, elderly man appeared in the frame. “Why, I say. Mr. Baggins! What brings you to my… My word, can it be? Thorin Durin?” Gandalf laughed, a full-bellied sound as he reached out, grabbing Thorin’s hand, and shaking it enthusiastically. “I say, it’s good to see you again, my boy! What’s it been… fifteen years now?”

Thorin chuckled. “Sixteen, Mr. Grayhame. It’s good to see you again, sir. How are you?”

“Oh, getting up there in years, lad, up there in years. Oh, where are my manners? Come in, come in! You as well, Mr. Baggins! Please, come to the kitchen; I’ll put on a cup of tea.”

“That’s very kind, Mr. Grayhame, thank you,” Bilbo said, following Thorin inside.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Baggins, no one has called me ‘Mr. Grayhame’ in decades; Gandalf shall serve just fine. Although I suppose ‘Grayhame’ is better than ‘old nutter’, as they like to say in Dale,” Gandalf said with a chuckle. “But… I assume, after sixteen years, Thorin, you’re not here to talk about… about the weather. Ah, there’s the kettle. Oh, please, sit. There you are. Well, how can I help you, gentlemen?”

Thorin leaned forward, putting his arms on the table. “Well, Gandalf… It’s about my nephews.”

“Ah, yes, yes! It was, uh… Fili and… Kili, correct? I’ve met the older boy several times; rather suspicious lad, that one. I’m not entirely sure that the younger one even has a face!” Gandalf said with a snort. “Always… hiding behind that Durin hair. I will say, however, I was quite startled; those boys are the fourth generation of Durins I’ve seen, and until the boy, you were the only one I’ve ever seen with dark hair. I imagine you both get it from your grandmother, Thorin; Lady Amelia was quite the raven-haired beauty.”

Thorin smiled politely. “I’ve heard that said before, Gandalf. However, I wished to ask you… well… Since my sister died -”

“Oh, yes, my sympathies, Thorin. I was at her funeral. Quite the tragic affair, it was. Those poor boys, left alone with your father,” Gandalf said, shaking his head sadly. “Tragic.”

Bilbo glanced over at Thorin, who looked rather uncomfortable. Seeing as how Thorin looked like he was struggling for words, Bilbo decided to relieve him.

“Yes, very tragic. However, since Lady Dis’s death, the boys have had very little in the way of formal education. We were wondering if perhaps, you would consider taking a position as their tutor.”

“Me?” Gandalf asked, his bushy eyebrows rising on his forehead.

Thorin seemed to find his voice as he nodded. “Yes, Gandalf. You’re quite a learned man, and we were looking for someone… discrete.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Wouldn’t want anyone discussing matters that might embarrass the family name, after all,” Gandalf said, and Bilbo detected a hint of something in his voice, that he couldn’t quite make out.

But Thorin apparently had no such difficulties in determining the tone. “That’s not it at all, Gandalf; I’m concerned that if… the going-ons of the house were to become public knowledge, the boys’ futures would be adversely affected,” He said pointedly. “And that is something I am deeply concerned with. As I’m sure you can understand.”

Bilbo waited for a few moments, anxious, staring back and forth between the two. Finally, Gandalf chuckled.

“Ah, Thorin, it is good to have you back,” He said, pouring them each a cup of tea. “Of course, I should be delighted to tutor your young nephews. Absolutely delighted.”

“Ah, um, Mr… Gandalf,” Bilbo said with a nervous chuckle. “Before you agree to anything, I feel it necessary that you should have a full understanding of the situation. The boys are -”

“Suspicious? Distrustful? Suffering from nervousness, temper issues, along with a myriad of other emotional instabilities that might make most people outside of the family uncomfortable?” Gandalf chuckled again. “My dear boy, not only am I not ‘most’ people, these young boys won’t be the first like that I’ve dealt with; it took me months to earn Frerin and Dis’s trust, and longer still to earn Thorin’s. Of course I shall accept.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know this is a super short chapter, especially given how long it's been since I posted; to be honest, work has been stupidly busy and crazy, and when I do get the time to sit down and type, it's like my brain doesn't function. I rewrote this chapter like six times, and I'm _still_ not happy with it, but I knew I had to post something.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented, or left kudos; it does mean a lot to me, even if I haven't had time to get back to everyone lately.

Thorin felt like a heavy burden had been lifted as the coach started back towards Erebor Manor. The situation had resolved itself exceptionally, with all parties involved being satisfied: the boys would get their education, Gandalf could pass on his considerable knowledge, and Bilbo and Thorin didn’t have to worry about how it would affect the boys’ socially.

All in all, a good day’s work.

“I do believe this is the most content I’ve seen you since you arrived in Bristol.”

Thorin glanced over at Bilbo, giving him a small smile. “I was just thinking that this whole endeavor has worked out rather well, all things considered.”

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully, giving Thorin a steady look. “Yes, I’d say it did. I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement, rather than arguing about it, and being distrustful. I must say, Thorin, I’m pleased with not only how the situation resolved itself, but also with how we worked together towards that outcome. Hopefully, we can continue to do so in the future.

“I know that your friend acted as our go-between here; perhaps, in the future, we might be able to address the matter ourselves? Rather than both of us skulking about, that is. Of course, I’m not criticizing you, I was at fault myself. I acted a bit of a prat, and I’m not too proud to admit it. We shouldn’t let our concerns for the boys stop us from speaking to each other openly; after all, I am your solicitor,” He said, giving Thorin a small smile. “I would rather hope you’d come to trust me with your thoughts, whatever they might be.”

Thorin thought for a moment, pondering, before leaning forward a bit, having made up his mind. “Alright then, Bilbo. If we’re too trust each other… I would like to know exactly what your relationship with my brother was.” At Bilbo’s astonished look -his mouth actually dropped a bit, Thorin noted -Thorin held up a hand. “You’ve made several comments that indicate you and Frerin had a relationship that went well beyond the bonds of a client/solicitor. As well, you’ve made mention of several things that I can’t imagine my brother sharing with someone he didn’t care about, or someone who he only had a passing, casual relationship with.”

Bilbo puffed out his chest a bit, looking rather indignant. “I never said we had a ‘casual’ relationship, Thorin; after all, when you left, he had no one else to speak to of his troubles! We were friends -nothing more,” He added. “I dislike what you’re implying.”

“I’m implying nothing, Bilbo,” Thorin said, trying to keep the sternness from his voice. “I’m simply commenting that my brother would never speak of certain things to someone he didn’t trust implicitly; after all, you said it yourself: if word of what he spoke to you about had gotten out, the entire family would have been ruined. I’m sure Frerin didn’t much care if it damaged our father’s reputation, but I can’t imagine my brother risking my sister, or his nephews by talking to someone he didn’t trust completely. Can you blame me for being curious?”

“We were rather good friends,” Bilbo said with a snort. “As I said, I believe I was the only one he felt like he could talk to; after all, he couldn’t go to your sister with his woes and troubles. She had quite enough on her own plate.” The smaller man scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted. “He came to visit me, one night, at my home. He was… He was simply awful looking, and not just because he was covered in bruises, Thorin,” He said quietly. “He… Well. To put it rather frankly, he looked like a man on the edge of the cliff, ready to throw it all away and leap. He was… well, I won’t say ‘babbling’, but I’m sure it was a near thing.

“He was… shattered, Thorin. He was saying how he couldn’t handle it anymore; that he wasn’t sure what was worse for him: being the target of your father’s wrath, or having to watch or listen as your sister or nephews were. He... “ Bilbo chuckled sadly. “Do you know what he told me? That he could never be you, Thorin. That he kept trying, but that he was too selfish. He could only take so much, before he had to let your father turn his attention elsewhere. He was angry at you for leaving, and he felt guilty for being angry. He was… confused. Angry. In pain.

“We just talked. Until the sun came up. He actually apologized for ‘rambling’, as he put it. Of course, I told him it was no trouble at all; that I was pleased that he trusted me enough to come to me in his time of need.”

Thorin couldn’t help the wave of guilt that washed over him. He looked away from Bilbo, turning his gaze out the window.

After he’d left, he’d tried not to think about Frerin and Dis. Not that he wanted to forget them, so much as he knew it’d drive him insane if he thought about them. Left alone with their father, without him there to protect them.

He’d fled, that night sixteen years ago. As soon as he’d heard the news -that Eli had been hung -he’d dragged himself out of his bed. Getting dressed had been painful, but he’d recognized it in almost a distant way; even Eli’s death, while a sharp sting, had been distant.

Eli’s death had hurt, true, but what had devastated him in that moment was the realization that it would never end. That the hurt, the pain -both emotional and physical -would never end, and that eventually, probably sooner than later, his father would kill him, or he’d throw himself from the highest room of the manor.

Either way, he wouldn’t have been able to save his siblings; maybe, perhaps another year at most. So he’d ran. He’d went to Bungo and Belladonna, and asked for Bungo to arrange him a carriage, and he’d fled as fast as he could.

Despite what Balin assured him, Thorin knew that he had failed his family. That wasn’t to say that he had taken the easy way out; given the situation, there was no right answer, no thing to do that would fix the situation. However that didn’t change the fact -and it  _ was  _ fact -that he’d abandoned his family to the tender mercies of Lord Thrain.

“Thorin, I… I know it might not be of much concern to you, now, after everything that’s happened, but… I did truly value your brother’s friendship,” Bilbo said softly, pulling Thorin from his thoughts. He glanced over to see that Bilbo was staring at his hands, his voice quiet. “When I was growing up… well, you know good and well what the townspeople think of your family, and since my father worked for you, they didn’t much want to associate with my family either. So the only children I interacted with as a child were your brother and sister. As we all grew, I… I did what I could to help them.

“God knows, it was never enough; I’m not sure anything would have been, if I’m being honest. But when your brother came to me, that night, I was… honored, that he trusted me. We developed a friendship that… Well, if I’m being quite honest with you, Thorin, your brother was the only friend I ever had. I’d like to think that, in some small way, I… I made his days at Erebor a bit easier to bear.”

* * *

  
  


Fili was restless. Thorin and Bilbo had left early in the morning, and Balin had excused himself to the library -something Fili was sure he’d done to try and make the boys more comfortable. Josie was helping Maggie in the kitchens, leaving Fili and Kili alone in the house for the first time in… well, probably months.

He’d played a few games of hide-and-seek with Kili, but Kili had quickly gotten frustrated with Fili’s ease in finding him. They’d read Kili’s book for a bit, but had quickly grown bored of that as well. They’d just finished checking in the kitchen to see what Maggie was doing, and she’d shooed them out, telling them not until dinner time.

So, after wandering around bored for nearly a quarter hour, Kili had decided he wanted to go riding. Fili had been hesitant -it would’ve been just the two of them, after all, since Bofur was in Manchester looking to acquire some new stock, and taken Bifur with him.

But Kili had begged and pleaded, and then, an hour later, Fili had found himself on Stendhal, trailing behind Kili and Mouse, who were flitting about like fairies, going ahead, and then behind, and then ahead again.

“Bloody idiot,” Fili cursed good-naturedly, reaching down to rub at Stendhal’s neck as Kili and Mouse bolted by them again. “He’s going to break his fool neck, and it won’t be my fault.”

Stendhal snorted in agreement, and Fili sighed as they meandered towards the path Kili had taken. It lead away from town, towards the woods, and Fili wanted to roll his eyes. Bombur had told him hundreds of times, Mouse wasn’t meant for heavy woods -he was too big, and had too hard of a time maneuvering through, especially at the speeds Kili liked to go.

“Kili! Mind you don’t ride into a branch!” He called out, nudging Stendhal towards the trees. But Stendhal resisted, whinnying quietly, throwing his head a bit. “What’s wrong, boy?” He asked, patting his neck again, frowning. Stendhal was an exceptionally well-behaved horse, and didn’t typically give Fili any problems. But now, he was stamping his feet anxiously, looking out towards the horizon, then back at the trees again.

Fili followed his gaze, and noticed the darkening clouds off in the distance for the first time.

“Kili?” He called out, turning back towards the woods. “Come on, we have to head back. Kili!” He bellowed, digging his heels into Stendhal’s flanks, and forcing him into the tree line. “Kili!”


End file.
